Hunter's Honor
by Bryon Nightshade
Summary: Knuckles and Rouge parted harshly. When she returns to Angel Island, they immediately resume fighting. But at the same time, they feel something in each other noone else can provide.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this very story; pretty much everything in it belongs to one or more of the following: SEGA, DIC, or Archie Comics.

Hunter's Honor 

            'There it is!

            'It sure took long enough to find it again. What a chore!'

            Rouge the bat stretched her wings out a few times and nervously adjusted her gloves. No, not nervously; there wasn't anything to be nervous about, right? It was simple force of habit.

            She turned the controls of her helicopter and aimed for Angel Island.

            Well, perhaps there was something to be nervous about…

            Involuntarily she thought back. It had been three months ago today that last she'd seen Knuckles, last of the echidnas. The party for saving the world from the long-dead Gerald Robotnik and the funeral of Shadow Hedgehog had occurred the same day, which made both feel very odd. Eggman hadn't attended either—partly to avoid arrest, and partly, as he pointed out, because there was no body to bury.

            "It's pointless to have a funeral for someone whose body was incinerated, with the ashes scattered throughout the stratosphere!"

            Everyone else ignored that argument, and the funeral was held with Shadow "en absentia".

            Rouge began to think past the funeral, to the victory party afterwards—and abruptly shut those thoughts down. Nothing good could come from thinking about that.

            On the other hand, certainly knowing how to talk to Knuckles might be beneficial—but she didn't want to remember how they'd parted. No. Better to not think of it at all.

            She moved in to land near the edge of Angel Island. Not too close to the edge, of course; it was a long way down from the edge to the surface of the water.

            As she expected, he was waiting for her. After all, he rarely got visitors here, and a helicopter was a fairly conspicuous way of getting to the island.

            She took her time exiting the copter, carefully removing the heavy headgear she used to protect her vulnerable ears. She breathed deeply, unnerved by the patient way he stood there, staring at her, waiting for her.

            "Time to go," she whispered to herself. "It's not right to hesitate. Move, or leave now."

            She chose to move.

            She opened the copter door and got out. Knuckles watched her the whole time.

            "Hello Knuckles," she said.

            "What do you want?"

            He was brusque. Rouge recognized the tone—it was the one he'd used the first time they'd met.

            She'd been after the Master Emerald, and almost had it, before he came along. In the ensuing fight, he'd surprised her with his abilities and come close to killing her. The fight had stalemated, and that stalemate had ended through a little of Robotnik's intervention.

            In that moment, they'd hated each other—she saw him as an annoying obstacle, he saw her as a worthless thief. Still, that fight seemed so long ago. Certainly Knuckles had come to know her better since then!

            She was offended by the notion. "Why are you using that disgusting tone on me? I thought…"

            "What do you want?" he repeated, raising his fists. He crossed his arms, but his threatening posture couldn't be mistaken. "Why are you here? I don't like it when people come here. You'd better either tell me why you're here or vamoose."

            She was at a loss to respond. Why had she come here, anyway? She reached back into the copter and retrieved her backpack, pulling a document from it. "Well, this is a big island. I came here to treasure-hunt."

            "I thought you got out of that line of work. 'Too much work for too little reward', that's what you said."

            "Too little pay," she corrected. "And I meant spying. Spying doesn't pay well," she said. She felt a hollowness in her words. No doubt they were convincing to Knuckles, but she felt the void in her words that she always felt when telling a well-rehearsed lie.

            Knuckles gave a hmph. "Yeah, treasure hunting on my island. I'm sure. There's only one piece of treasure worth hunting for, and there's no way you're gonna hunt for that!"

            "And what would you know about it?" she said, her temper flaring. "You may be a Hunter, but you only do that when you aren't guarding your precious Emerald. I gave it back to you once already, I'm not after it again now. I honestly think there may be some precious jewels in the mountains of this island."

            "I have a hard time believing that's your only motive."

            "Don't flatter yourself!"

            "NOW what are you saying?"

            "You're still angry at me, but you want me to admit I wanted to see you! Well, I will say no such thing!"

            "Do you have any idea how conceited you are?"

            The remark stopped her for just a moment. "How can I be conceited if I speak the truth?!"

            He shook his head again. "In that whole tirade, you were only right about one thing."

            "What's that?" she said, wondering what he was thinking.

            He caught her off-guard.

            She saw him beginning to move, but as usual he was faster than she anticipated; he tackled her, pinned her down, and drove his knuckle-barbs into the ground on either side of her neck.

            "I'm still angry at you," he said.

            In another second he was off of her and away; just as quickly she was back on her feet and mirroring his fighting posture.

            Her face was contorted in indignation of the highest sort. "You… you… I don't know where you get the nerve!"

            He laughed at her, infuriating her more. "You provide all the nerve I need."

            "Now you're talking nonsense!" Rouge exploded. She promptly turned around, returned to her copter, and took off.

            As she left, she saw Knuckles still staring at her, watching as she went. But something was different about him, now—his expression was almost one of pain.

            'Good! He deserves to be in pain, treating me so rudely!'

            She regretted the thought, but not too much.

            She flew around in circles, her anger simmering inside of her. What kind of greeting was that, anyway? She knew they'd parted harshly, but certainly she expected him to welcome her more.

            Heck, she'd expected more than that. She wanted him to be glad to see her.

            Well, why wasn't he? She was taking a lot of time and energy to come here!

            Then again… why WAS she here?

            To hunt for jewels, yes, that was a reason. But when she examined it, she felt the same hollowness that she'd felt when lying to Knuckles. It was a reason, but not a good one; she had other motivations.

            Slowly, she eased the stick back in the other direction.

            Why? No doubt Knuckles wanted to see her again. Might as well oblige him.

            But he'd been so hostile when she'd arrived, it certainly didn't seem like he wanted to see her again. Then again, there was that last moment as she left, when she thought she saw pain… but that could just as easily have been her eyes playing tricks on her.

            Ooh, I hate this ambivalence!    What is wrong with me?

            But she was headed back towards the island, so SOME part of her wasn't ambivalent.

            For the first time in her life, Rouge began to doubt herself.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	2. Chapter Two

            Rouge landed the helicopter on the island. As before, Knuckles was there, watching as she landed. Naturally, she thought. Of course he was waiting for me. See? He DOES want to see me again!

            This time when she got out, she favored him with politeness. "My dear Knuckles, forgive my lack of manners earlier."

            She bowed deeply. She was intensely aware, of course, that this combination of bow and the cut of her top produced great discomfiture amongst males of many species. When she rose again, unfortunately, Knuckles didn't look uncomfortable or grateful for the gesture; if anything, he looked pissed off.

            "Why are you here?" he asked again, his voice harsh. 

            'Yep, he's pissed,' Rouge thought

            "I told you already," she said, irritated that her gesture had backfired. "I want to hunt for treasure on this island."

            He shook his head. "As long as you're here, you're a threat. You don't have a sterling record for honesty. You've lied to… to everyone far too often. I don't like it."

            That was curious, Rouge thought. Knuckles didn't hesitate often.

            She turned her head disdainfully. "I don't know what you're talking about."

            "I can't believe you can say that. You're a spy and a thief, Rouge."

            "I am a Hunter. Those are side jobs."

            "I'm not talking about occupation, I'm talking about your character."

            She gave him a toothy grin. "Well, since I'm here on business, you could accept my Hunter persona, right?"

            He shook his head. "NOW what are you talking about?"

            "I follow certain rules depending upon what role I'm playing. My character depends upon my occupation. Sometimes I'm a thief. Sometimes I'm a spy. Sometimes I'm a Hunter. As a Hunter, I'm incapable of stealing. I can get things before other people, but I can't steal."

            "Rouge, you're just making this up as you go along."

            "You're insane! And wrong, to boot!"

            "You're a thief. So long as you remain here, you're a threat." He sighed. "I'm gonna have to babysit you while you're here."

            He surprised her with those words; her retort fell from her mouth, unused. "Excuse me?"

            "You heard me. So long as you're here, I'll have to keep watch over you. I can't trust you, so I need to make sure you don't steal the Master Emerald. I'll have to babysit you."

            She gave him another toothy grin. "And what if I strangle you in your sleep, then take the jewel?"

            He grunted. "Maybe I should just follow my first instinct and toss you off the island."

            There was a line in his emotions, and she'd crossed it. Any more pressure would definitely be a bad thing, so she decided to back off. For now.

            "I think I'll take your offer," she said. "You won't slow me down too much, hopefully."

            He sneered. "Sure, like there's anything you can do that I can't!"

            That feistiness was something she liked in him. It made dealing with him more fun. It was certainly better than his disdain.

            "In that case," she said, "I'll unload my things. Come and help me."

            "Oh, please! Anything you can't handle yourself you shouldn't have brought."

            She whirled on him. "What?"

            "I'm not gonna help you. This is your little adventure, I have nothing to do with it."

            "You are so intolerably rude," she huffed.

            "You have such unreasonable expectations."

            "Obviously. I thought you liked me."

            Rouge waited for his response, planning her next retort.

            But he said nothing.

            His response never came, and Rouge's train of thought was derailed. How could he not have a comeback to that? Either Rouge seriously overestimated him—not likely, since historically she'd underestimated him—or something was affecting him.

            Was it her last shot?

            To hide her confusion, she began unpacking her things from the helicopter.

            Rouge panted heavily. She tried to wipe the sweat off her brow, but her hands were occupied carrying things.

            Knuckles, meanwhile, was practicing his balance mostly be leaping everywhere and ricocheting off of trees.

            Needless to say, because she was so weighed down, this behavior aggravated Rouge.

            "Take a tranquilizer," she barked at him. He only smiled back at her and kept moving.

            As he bounced, he asked her, "Do you always take this much gear when you go treasure hunting?"

            "No," she said, "but usually I either go with someone, or within distance of civilization."

            "I'm someone."

            "You said you wouldn't help, so you don't count."

            He landed in front of her and grinned.

            "Go away," she said.

            "No."

            She kept walking until she ran into him. Despite the considerable load she was bearing, she didn't run him over as she'd wanted to.

            He politely stepped out of her way, and she grumbled past him. This was not being fun.

            "You are such a pain!" she said. "All you do is mock me while I can't do anything about it. You're the epitome of barbarism."

            "You're the one who said we're not near civilization."

            "And you're making me right!"

            Knuckles just laughed.

            "How is that funny?!"

            "Because you're right, and you hate it! You work so hard to be right, but when you ARE right it's about something you wish was the other way!"

            "That's not funny."

            He laughed a little more and resumed his balance exercises with a smile on his face.

            Rouge hated him.

            Rouge busied herself putting down and organizing all her equipment.

            "You think this is a good place to start hunting?" Knuckles asked.

            She smiled. He was such a newbie at this! It really was a pity. Amazing how he could get as many Master Emerald shards as she could. Well, she'd teach him a few tricks of the trade.

            Her best ones she'd save, just in case she needed to crush him later. It wouldn't do to have the novice beat the master.

            "No," she said, "but there are two reasons to stop now. First, it's almost night, and second, the places I need to go are mostly in those mountains," she said, pointing. "It would be more trouble than worth to lug all of this up there." The third reason, that she was tired, she dared not mention.

            "Out of curiosity," he said while flipping into a handstand, "why didn't you just bring the helicopter?"

            Rouge froze, her mouth hanging open and her cheeks flush with color.

            In another moment she was moving again, skillfully covering her embarrassment. "It wasn't the right thing."

            "It would have saved you a lot of time and trouble."

            "Yes, but it would have thrown the metal detectors out of whack," she said, the lie flowing effortlessly to her lips.

            "I thought you didn't use one."

            "Sometimes I do." Skillful as she was, she doubted he was fully buying it.

            "I guess you should use every tool available for best results, right?"

            Was he… helping her escape?

            That couldn't be!

            She smiled. Well, he had—and now she'd turn it to her advantage. "Of course. You expose your newness with your limited thinking."

            He tumbled from his handstand, sitting with his back facing her.

            "Graceful," she quipped. He didn't turn to her, simply rose and walked away.

            Something was wrong. She felt a tinge of remorse, which was bizarre itself, but there was something—else. Something alien. 

            What was this feeling inside of her? He deserved exactly what he got! Her entire life—her survival—she recognized that it depended upon seizing weakness and exploiting it. Certainly he knew this—hmph, certainly he played by the same rules! He was a guardian, after all; he should know better than to show a weak spot to anyone.

            And yet…

            He'd done it deliberately, of that she was sure. And he'd done it to help her.

            Stupid! As if she needed help!

            Her thoughts drifted back again, to one of her first meetings with him. They'd been fighting, of course; but in the end, she'd given him the Master Emerald shards she'd collected. 

            Then he'd apologized to her.

            In that moment, she'd felt… what? Nothing useful, certainly. It wasn't tactile, it had no value; you couldn't buy it, sell it, or barter with it. You couldn't reproduce it on your own and she only felt bad thinking about it.

            But she wanted it.

            Yes, she wanted it.

            She didn't know quite what it was, but in that moment, she'd felt… content.

            When Knuckles had spoken just now, she'd felt a hint of that again. It had vanished in a flash, but there was no denying that it was there. There was just enough of a taste of it to stir in her the ravenous hunger that drove her to her biggest escapades.

            Rouge didn't like waiting; she didn't like being denied. She always got what she wanted, and she wasn't about to change that.

            She'd get that feeling back!

            The feeling was a result of Knuckles' weakness. That, then, was her mission—to bring out his weakness, and claim it.

            As soon as she was reasonably set up and sure he wasn't nearby, she reached for her computer. She contacted one of her usual suppliers and placed an order for a set of metal detectors.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	3. Chapter Three

            He didn't return until nightfall. "Seems odd to me," she said, "that you should be gone so often while you're supposed to be babysitting."

            "I've been close by," he retorted. "I know you don't think anything of me, but don't think I don't know my duty."

            She nodded sagely. "That's the one virtue I know you have, commitment to that duty."

            He hmphed and turned away.

            "What is your problem?" she asked.

            "You."

            "Of course. I'm the source of all life's problems, and especially all of your problems." Guilt was one of her favorite tools.

            "Why'd you have to come back?"

            "You let me come," she reminded him.

            "I know. That's another problem. But why'd you have to come?"

            "I didn't have to come," she said. "I'm never lacking in opportunities. But this… this was something different."

            "How so?"

            "You're here."

            He smiled. "That's odd. When you first arrived, you claimed that I had nothing to do with it. Now I'm the reason you're here. Which is it?"

            "Both," she said, just to tie him in knots.

            His jaw dropped. "Your lack of shame is astounding!" he exclaimed. "You're just making this all up as you go along!"

            "I told you already that you insult me with those words!"

            "You could use a good insult!"

            "Take that back!" she growled.

            "I will! You could use a whole bunch of good insults, 'cause it would take more than one to wise you up!"

            She wriggled her fingers, displaying the claws built into them.

            "Lay a paw on me and you can kiss your treasure hunt goodbye, not to mention your stay here!"

            "You wouldn't touch me! You apologized for hurting me in the past, there's no way you'd hurt me now!"

            "I don't have to hurt you. You have wings, after all; all I need to do is toss you off the edge. Your equipment would make great lawn decorations."

            She turned away. "Fine, then, forget it."

            "Forget what, exactly?"

            "This argument! Forget that I ever wanted to make this a brawl!" Besides, she admitted, if it became a fistfight I'm not sure who would win.

            She hated to be in such a position of weakness. He really did have some power over her—he determined when all of this ended. She wanted to prolong it; that was a weakness he was taking advantage of.

            On the other paw…

            "Maybe I will leave."

            He twitched.

            "You obviously want me to leave. Maybe I should."

            He crossed his arms, though Rouge thought she saw them shaking before they got there. "That would remove a threat to the Master Emerald."

            "So you DO want me to leave!" she howled.

            "I never said that!" he shouted back.

            There was silence for a few seconds. "Then… you want me to stay?"

            He turned away so he didn't have to look at her. "I'll tolerate it."

            Rouge felt a moment of relief, but her predator instinct kicked in the moment after. You're transparent, she thought with contempt.

            I've turned a situation of disadvantage to one of advantage—all it took was to be sure he wanted me here. He talks tough about how I'm a threat, but he wants me here.

            Of course. Who wouldn't?

            At the same time, she was greatly relieved—and gladdened.

            Gladdened? 'Naturally, because it means I get to stay longer.'

            No, that wasn't all of it.

            Rouge was getting tired of this mental duplicity. Every time she felt or said something, she felt or said it twice—once how she wanted to, and once in a rebel part of her, hidden deep inside.

            If she could simply feel the one she wanted to, she'd be better off—these rogue feelings were only messing her up.

            Then again… wasn't the content-tingle she wanted so desperately from that part of her?

            'Forget it. Focus.'

            She laughed out loud. "I forgot. What was this conversation about, again?"

            "It doesn't matter," he said, calmly.

            She shook her head. "We do have vicious fights, don't we?"

            "You know," he said, "you're the only one who's ever gone mouth-to-mouth with me with any success."

            She gasped, stunned. She recovered quickly. "And you mean WHAT?!"

            He blushed furiously—quite a trick for someone with red fur. "That didn't come out how I meant it to," he said through clenched teeth.

            "No joke! What could you possibly have meant before you spoke and screwed it up?"

            "I meant that you're the only who's ever matched me arguing," he said, blustering. "It was supposed to be a comment."

            "It sounded like a come-on."

            "It wasn't!" he said, still raging. "I was comparing you to Sonic."

            "You were comparing Sonic's and my mouths?!"

            "Shut up! That's not what I meant!"

            She shook her head patronizingly. "You really are a fool," she said, "and you disprove your own statement. When you blundered through that, you only showed how weak you are at matching wits."

            He smiled. "So I made a mistake. So what? You've always underestimated me, but you've got the scars to show how much that's a mistake."

            "I most certainly do not," she said haughtily. "I had them removed. I have an appearance to maintain."

            "I don't know. A few scars might do you some good."

            "You truly are barbaric."

            "As you wish."

            There was an awkward silence. 'What did THAT mean?' Rouge wondered. There were many possibilities, but that phrase was used mostly by lovers.

            She almost snorted at that—if he knew that, he was making a terrible joke.

            Instead, she took it. "I told you before, I always get what I want."

            A wicked smile broke on his face, and she knew she'd been had. "If that were true," he said, "then the pedestal on this island would be missing a certain jewel."

            Rather than try and wriggle out, she gave in. "You win."

            "You're still underestimating me, Rouge."

            She knew that, for the second time in two sentences, he was right.

            Rouge sat alone in the tent she'd rigged up. She couldn't see anything, but she could hear Knuckles outside. He'd be settled for a few moments, but then he'd rush about or pace restlessly. He had a lot of pent-up energy, that was for sure.

            'How could he be so active?' Rouge thought, yawning. 'He exercised virtually all day today—how can he have so much energy he can't sleep?'

            She stretched as much as she could in the confines of the tent. Though she preferred better accommodations—her favorite tent had a built-in commode and lavatory—this tiny tent had been the best choice given her limited cargo space.

            This place was so noisy! Her sensitive ears picked up more than just Knuckles' pacing. She heard the rustlings of night animals, the calls of hunters and cries of prey, and the combined chirpings and scratchings of millions upon millions of insects.

            The sound, if anything, seemed to be increasing. Now the wind rustled through the trees, stirring leaves and branches in an endless rustle. Now the wind passed, and all the trees groaned back into place.

            This served only to irritate the local wildlife further. The noise increased tenfold over what it had been. The uproar engulfed Rouge's tent, driving her mad with the bustle and clamor.

            'Enough!' she thought. She threw her blanket off herself, crawled out of the tent, and stood.

            "SHUUUUUUT UUUUUUUPPP!!!"

            The volume decreased a little—not enough to let her get to sleep easily, but enough for her to know everyone had heard her. In that case, it was as if the general population was making fun of her, refusing to bend to her will.

            A new sound appeared. Her ears swiveled to it, followed by her eyes. Knuckles was laughing at her.

            "What?!" she snapped.

            "And here I thought I was the only one who couldn't get to sleep. Looks like you're still pretty lively, too."

            "Don't flatter yourself by comparing yourself to me!" she said. "You are nothing like me!"

            "Thank Chaos," Knuckles replied.

             Rouge returned to her bed pad inside the tent. She lay there for… who knew how long? She wasn't exactly checking her clock to see when she drifted off. But before she went, she thought to herself, 'I don't WANT Knuckles to be like me…'

TO BE CONTINUED…


	4. Chapter Four

            "Wake up!"

            Even before his eyes opened, he'd lashed out with a fist. Only by dodging back was Rouge able to avoid it.

            When she landed, his eyes were open; he kept his arm extended and looked at her. "What do you want?"

            "Some Guardian you are," she said, sneering. "I could have had you dead."

            Knuckles' voice was steady, but the way his face betrayed his anger. "Do you intentionally try to piss me off, or does it just come naturally?"

            "It must be my aura of superiority," she said. "It's all because of your inherent insecurity."

            "Insecure? Me? If I'm insecure, I'm dead."

            She laughed. "So you're secure with me here?"

            "Your conceit knows no limit," he said, rising. "Let's just say I can't feel TOO nervous about you."

            "I think I'll take that as an insult!" she said. "You don't fear me enough!"

            He simply shrugged. "That's your decision. So, what's this about a map?"

            "I was just thinking that it's hard to treasure-hunt if I don't know what's here. A map would make things simple. After all, I can't spend all my time just scrounging in the dirt. The secret to treasure hunting is finding where other people scrounged in the dirt, then picking up after them. I need a map to learn where those places are. Are there any old mines around here? How about tombs to raid?"

            "There are both of those, actually. The tombs probably aren't such a good idea, though."

            "Why not?" she teased. "Are they echidna tombs, and you're soft about it?"

            "I am NOT soft. I don't know what kind of tombs they are, and frankly I don't care. They're dead. But I don't like it when they go walking on me."

            A chill ran up Rouge's spine. "When the dead go walking?"

            "Sure. Whoever's buried there isn't very happy about it. Every once in a while the dead get together and wander around, looking for someone to take their frustration out on. Those times, I usually just stay far away from there."

            There was a long pause as Rouge considered it. Then Knuckles smiled. "What's wrong? Are you scared?"

            She turned disdainfully. "Every grave I've ever robbed has been 'haunted', but I've never met a ghost. So you can understand some skepticism on my part."

            "You've never visited these graves. Anyway, the mines are probably a better bet. A map is out of the question, though. There's just too much risk."

            "Risk again. Just how secure are you?"

            "Not as secure as I want to be."

            "Just perfect, then," she said. "You don't fear me enough to be insecure, but you don't trust me enough to be secure. Is there a term for that?"

            Knuckles stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Wariness? Caution? Guardedness?"

            "If any of those were the case, I would never catch you sleeping."

            "But if it's none of those, you'd have your map."

            'Stalemate,' Rouge thought. 'So named because it's stale.'

            "Well then," she said, "will you guide me to these mines of yours?"

            "Not of mine," he said.

            "Then whose are they?"

            "I don't know. On the other paw, I can't say I expect them to come back and claim them, so the mines could be mine if I wanted them to be."

            Odd. Rouge couldn't grasp his reasoning. "Why don't you want them to be yours?"

            "What good would it do? They have no value to me. I can't do anything with them, and I can't sell them off to get something else, so they're essentially worthless."

            "But… any place where there are jewels… I mean, it's a mine! How can you not want jewels?"

            "I don't have your fetish, Rouge."

            "It's not a fetish!"

            He grinned. "Right, and now you're gonna tell me it's perfectly logical to be obsessed with jewels."

            "Hardly," she said, mind working furiously. "But… it's a fetish we both have. You have one over that big green stone."

            "That is not the same thing!"

            "Not all fetishes are created equal?"

            "Something like that."

            "You're right. Unlike you, I LIKE my fetish!"

            Knuckles rolled his eyes, but with something of a smile. Rouge smiled broadly—she'd nailed him, and they both knew it.

            Rouge felt a hint of the tingle again, and immediately drew a conclusion from it. She'd gotten the feeling through her defeat of him. As before, his weakness produced this in her.

            Someday soon, she would find the opening she needed. She would find some soft spot—some gap in his defenses. Then she would be in like a flood and consume him.

            Maybe, after that, she might be content.

            "I told you, I'm not sure if I'll be able to spot it from the air."

            "How can you not spot a mine from the air?"

            "I don't know what it would look like."

            Rouge huffed at Knuckles. He was being stubborn again. Although he'd agreed to show her to a mine, he didn't want to take the fastest route to the mine, her helicopter.

            "What, are you scared of copters?"

            "No."

            "Did you have a bad experience with a copter once? Did one of your parents?"

            "NO!"

            Rouge almost smiled—then stopped. She wanted to slap herself—to think she'd almost missed it!

            Knuckles was irritable, of course, and she'd expected a harsh reaction to that jibe. But all her jobs had taught her a thing or two on how to read people. Subtle differences in intonation and gesture often revealed peoples' true minds without their realizing it. Many were the people undone by subconscious physical reactions to stress differentiating lies and truths.

            Rouge was by no means an expert at this, and usually could only rely on it when she wasn't participating in the conversation. But Knuckles was so overt in his emotions and shameless in his physique that her ability was exaggerated. The minnow's king if it's up against plankton.

            Something in his voice—the dilation of his eyes—different factors showed Knuckles' reaction had been too harsh. Something Rouge had said had struck a nerve. What was it?

            Rouge filed it away for future reference.

            "Why did you bring a copter, anyway?" Knuckles said, trying to fill the silence.

            "Huh?" Rouge hadn't quite caught up yet.

            "A helicopter. It seems odd for you. Kind of—well, loud. You strike me as more of a slinker. You didn't need a copter last time."

            "Last time was a grab and run," she said. "It wasn't necessary. This time I needed the lift to bring my equipment, but I still wanted to come alone. And I am not a slinker."

            "You wanted to come alone? Why, embarrassed at what someone else might see?"

            "I can't imagine what you're implying by that!"

            "Me beating you."

            "As I said, I can't imagine!"

            Knuckles laughed, and Rouge smiled too. It was fun to match wits with him—their mutual arrogance provided such a nice dynamic.

            What the--?

            How--?

            It was the content-tingle!

            Why now? Rouge didn't understand. 'Well,' she thought, 'I get it because of Knuckles' weakness, right? Well, I'd just told him he couldn't beat me—that's what caused it.'

            No, it wasn't, and she knew it.

            Far from making her feel good, this time the tingle was unnerving. Where was it coming from? It was disrupting her theories. If it just popped up out of nowhere, how was she supposed to reproduce it later?

            Knuckles must have noticed her silence, because he spoke up. "Something wrong?"

            "No," she lied. "And we can forget about the copter. It's too loud anyway, it hurts my ears."

            He shook his head. "So you kept pressuring me about it—why? Just to be contrary?"

             "For your sake," she said. "I thought you might enjoy something new."

            "Really? Rouge, you considered me. I'm touched."

            She laughed, but not whole-heartedly. 'That wasn't just a joke,' she thought. 'He felt something like that—even just a little bit, it was there.'

            She smiled. 'He DOES like me.'

            "So," she said, "why did you go against the copter so much?"

            "I'm not gonna change what I said," he said. "It's just not useful, and it's bothersome. More trouble than it's worth."

            "So it's not the copter itself?"

            He looked at her as if he couldn't grasp what she was thinking. "What's with all these weird questions?"

            "Nothing," she lied, then laughed. "It's rich when YOU call someone weird."

            "Hey, I just said the questions were weird. And at least I don't have six limbs!"

            "Six limbs are very useful," she countered.

            "So are knuckle-barbs, but we were just going by weird and not-weird, right?"

            "Do you honestly think that by weird I was referring only to physical?"

            "If we're talking about head cases, you lose more ground, 'cause your weirdness is mostly mental anyway!"

            She scoffed at him. "What a weirdo."

            He laughed. "Are you ready to go?"

            "Are you ready to lead me?"

            "Any time."

            "I was waiting on you."

            "Then you're dumb."

            "And you're not cooperating."

            "Given the choice between dumb and non-cooperative, I'll take non-cooperative anytime."

            'He beat me to that one,' Rouge thought, smiling wryly.

            "Follow me," he said. He led her towards the mountains.

            'And now he beat me again.'

TO BE CONTINUED…


	5. Chapter Five

            Rouge panted heavily under the weight of her equipment. She'd decided that she'd move all her gear closer to the mine, rather than travel back and forth every day. Unfortunately, this also meant that she'd have to carry it there.

            This time, Knuckles was being more merciful—he wasn't bouncing around everywhere, so she didn't want to kill him as much. Nothing annoyed her more than someone else having something she didn't have, so when he was leaping about and she was hauling gear, he had a freedom of motion she couldn't stand. This time he was quietly leading her on, walking in front of her.

            "Hold a moment," she said. He stopped, turned to check on her.

            She had to put some of these things down! In addition to the oversized backpack and tent-carrier on her back, she was carrying things in both hands.

            "Tired?" he asked.

            "No," she bit, immediately. "I just needed a free hand for a moment," she said as she wiped her brow.

            Unexpectedly, Knuckles walked back to her. "It's just not right," he said as he grabbed some of her things.

            "Hey! What are you doing?"

            "Everyone should have a chance to wipe their own sweat," he said.

            She looked at what he'd left—he'd taken all the items that had gone in her right hand.

            As had become the norm since her return, she had two distinct reactions. The first was gratitude, along with an odd, warm feeling that she mattered to him. The second was a predator's glee that the depth of her strength or weakness hadn't been revealed. If he kept helping her, he'd never accurately know how strong she was, which would be to her advantage in case of a fight.

            'When will you get a grip?' she thought in a rage. 'Much more of this and I'll be a fully qualified schizophrenic.'

            This contest of her personalities had to stop before it got her into trouble. Some day soon there would be a reckoning. She knew quite well that it was her predator side that allowed her continued survival. If she couldn't find a way to get rid of this softer side of herself, she'd never find a way to get that content-tingle back!

            Until she found a way to exorcise it completely, she'd do her best to stifle that softness. After all, she could see the softness growing in Knuckles, and it was obviously working to her advantage.

            'As always,' she thought, grinning.

            In the meantime, though, that was a nice thing he'd done for her, wasn't it?

            "You still back there?" he called over his shoulder.

            "I'm right behind you," she said. "How dare you underestimate me so!"

            He laughed, and she laughed with him.

            "Why are we going around this way?" Rouge said. "The mountain's over there!" 'Not to mention that I am nearing collapse,' she added mentally.

            "You'll see," he said, and she could almost hear his smile.

            "Great," she said, "you have some enigmatic plan. What's this sinking feeling I'm getting?"

            "Dig me a hole and jump in it," he said dismissively.

            "What kind of messed-up comeback is that?"

            She could have sworn she heard him start to say "Sorry", but he recovered before she could be sure. "You can't figure it out? I'm disappointed. It's one of the phrases I've made up that have to do with this place. If you dig deep enough into this island, what happens?"

            She considered. What would happen if you dug—oh. You dig through the island and fall a few hundred meters to the water.

            She pressed her free hand to her cheek and adopted a tone of shock. "Why, Knuckles, what dazzling wit! Your sense of humor is riotous!" She dropped both hand and tone of voice. "As in when you speak, people riot."

            "Since I lived here, I had to come up with my own sayings," he said, his voice a little hurt. He quickly regained his composure and his grin. "When you consider that I came up with it on my own, it's pretty good. Certainly it's original."

            "Does originality matter more to you than effectiveness? Because that comeback ranks right up there with, "so?""

            "If you've gotta choose… I mean, I didn't think too much of your comeback, either."

            "But that's because you were on the receiving end."

            "Whereas you are the unbiased judge of comeback worth."

            "The only judge who matters. My comeback seemed good to me."

            Knuckles laughed out loud. "You sound like the lunatic who claims it all makes sense to him."

            "What are you implying?" she said, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

            He looked puzzled. "I'm not sure. I can't decide. Are you hypocritical or just insane?"

            "I'm not inconsistent in the least!"  
            "Well, that settles it, then. You're insane."

            "False dichotomy," she said with her best patronizing voice. "It's an error in logic where you give only two choices, and the reality is more complex."

            "You're right," he said suddenly. "I've been totally wrong! You could very well be hypocritical AND insane!"

            Crunch.

            Somehow, Knuckles delivering that blow and Rouge's snapping of a branch corresponded perfectly.

            'It'll take me a few wins to wear off that blow,' she thought. 'Ouch.'

            However, she would do her best to deny him the pleasure of victory. "I refuse to have a conversation with someone with such a warped perception of reality."

            Knuckles turned right suddenly, passing between two bushes. "Talking to your reflection again, are you?"

            Rouge stopped, unsure of what to do.

            "Come on!" he called back. "We're here."

            She followed the way Knuckles had gone, pressing between the bushes. It was a tight squeeze given the amount of things she was carrying, and she stumbled out haphazardly.

            Stumbled out and gasped.

            It was a lovely lake, small but fairly deep, surrounded on three sides by trees and anchored by the mountain. The setting sun's rays reflected off the surface of the water, glittering like a million diamonds.

            "And the best part," Knuckles said, "is that it's warm all the time. The Emerald keeps the lava of the volcanoes molten, and some of that heat 'leaks' into the lake."

            "That's the mountain we're going to?" said Rouge, trying to make her mouth work.

            "That's it. I just thought that this would be a good place to set things up."

            She looked back at him even as she struggled to regain her thoughts. As a quick way to focus, she concentrated on his expression. He seemed both confident and unconcerned—like he knew she would like it, but it didn't matter either way. But he still wasn't very good at hiding his emotions. As she looked more closely, he saw that both the confidence and unconcern were masks.

            Knuckles had very little of value—the only thing he really had was access to and knowledge of this island. He was giving this to her, trying to share with her this beauty that he'd found in his otherwise tedious existence.

            She still wasn't sure quite what to say. "It is pretty," she said. "Um, the other side of the lake is the mountain we're going to, right?"

            "Right," he said, deflated.

            Something in his depressed tone made Rouge extremely uncomfortable. "I mean, it really is pretty," she said, fumbling the words and speeding up. "This is the right place to set up a base—around this lake, that is—so… you had the right idea, we just need to move a little."

            He looked up at her, almost questioning. She blushed, flustered. How embarrassing an outburst! Yes, Rouge the suave, cool, easy-going—flustered by the change in the tone of voice of a person standing in her way! This wasn't right!

            "I'm impressed," he said.

            As if she wasn't confused enough! "What?" was all she could manage.

            "I'm impressed," he repeated. "To be honest, I wouldn't think you'd appreciate it that much. I mean, it always seemed like the only beauty you appreciated came from cold rocks."

            She blubbered in outrage. "Come on, you erring echidna! Firstly, there's nothing wrong with appreciating gems—and call them gems from now on, they're not rocks!"

            "But they ARE rocks," he said.

            "That's not the point! They're gems, they shouldn't be called rocks. Secondly, I do appreciate other beauty! There's the beauty of a job well-done, the beauty of a particular method or heist… and thirdly, how many times have I told you not to think lowly of me? I am Rouge, not some idiot hedgehog or fox or hyooman!"

            He nodded through the whole thing. "Okay," he said when she was done. "Like I said, I was wrong. I didn't think it would impress you." He turned. "Come on, this way. You want to get closer to the mountain, right?"

            "Right," she said, but with so little intensity it came out as a whisper.

            Her insides felt cold; she felt empty, alone with the knowledge that she'd just spewed out a bunch of lies. That didn't make sense, though! It wasn't like lying was anything new, or unique, or even unsettling by itself.

            But she'd never felt like this before.

            And when she tried to think back to the last time she'd appreciated beauty, she couldn't remember.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	6. Chapter Six

            Rouge looked at Knuckles' sleeping form. The guardian looked completely different when he was asleep. While he was awake he always had perfect posture, a picture of composure and strength. It was impossible to think of him showing bodily weakness while awake; his body's attitude inhibited it.

            It was a far cry from how he was asleep.

            His hands clung to tufts of grass, as if letting go would hurl him from the ground. His muzzle was buried beneath his shoulder, concealing it as much as possible. His body was curled up, as were his legs, but his legs kept kicking of their own accord.

            Was this pathetic creature the same being that could nearly kill her when awake? She couldn't tell.

            She lifted one leg and traced the steel toe of her boot along his body, pointing out all the places it could do the most damage. Although most of his neck was covered, she could still hit his trachea from where she stood. She stopped there, because that was where she had control over his life and death.

            She waited patiently at that spot. Normally this was where her feeling of power came in. The moment when she had the other person completely in her power, and whatever they did thereafter was because she let them—that was always thrilling to her. It was less thrilling each time she did it, and it no longer had any novelty. But just the cold satisfaction—that alone was enough motivator for her.

            Yet here she felt none of that. There was no satisfaction in standing over him with his life at her mercy. Why was that?

            As usual, her two different persons answered the question two different ways. Part of her insisted that it was because she didn't have him completely in her power yet. She controlled whether he lived or died, but nothing in between; she needed to work on that before she felt satisfied.

            Her softer side had a far different interpretation. That reaction was part guilt, part unwillingness. The guilt was because of his trust in her. She was in her Hunter persona, right? She was supposed to abide by her agreements. To take advantage of him after he trusted her—that just wasn't right. 

            At the same time, the unwillingness in her refused to admit that he was really in her power. It refused to admit that she could actually kill him if she wanted to. That, too, was a disturbing thought.

            She put her foot back down, no longer attempting to make sense of her emotions. Somehow, she couldn't leave—just watching him like this was arresting. Her eyes traced down his body, and she admitted to herself that he was a specimen physically. She stopped at his hands. The tenseness with which they held on to the ground made his knuckle-barbs more prominent than usual.

            They were strangely fascinating to her, those barbs. She wondered what they really were like. Did they have flesh over them, or was it just bone? Did they have any nerves? How did they look?

            She moved around and squatted down, then reached out tentatively with one hand. Ever so hesitantly, she touched a barb.

            Hard. Unyielding. It couldn't be muscle, it was straight bone. Probably no nerves, but there was no way to know.

            But what do they look like?

            Rouge considered taking his gloves off, but circumstances worked against her. One of his legs jerked again, and his knee hit her side.

            She leapt back; he was awake instantly. "What? Hey! What are you doing here?"

            "Absolutely nothing!" she said, landing daintily.

            "If you…" he stopped. "If you're gonna be around, wake me up. I only went to sleep because I thought you were down."

            "That's your responsibility, not mine," she said. A spare second passed uncomfortably. "But I will wake you up next time."

            "Well," he said, yawning, "that makes it all fine."

            She felt bad for pitying him. "You are so sensitive," she said, turning and walking away.

            "Sensitive? How?"

            "If one thing is wrong with your sleeping, you can't sleep."

            "Paranoia is a survival trait," he said. "I would think that you, of all people, would understand that."

            "I agree," she said, "it just seems like you have a hard time practicing it."

            "Nobody ever said paranoia was fun."

            She smiled, for she understood. It sounded like a glib comeback, but it had some truth—truth she related to from experience.

            At the same time, it hinted at something more important. He didn't want to be paranoid. Even if she was here, he didn't want to be paranoid. Perhaps particularly if she was here.

            "Good night, Knuckles," she said.

            She reentered her tent—but she didn't go to sleep immediately. She went over their conversations from before, poring over details. The things he'd said, they way he'd said them—she was analyzing it all the way.

            'I know what to do.'

            That was it. That was his weakness.

            He was alone.

            Much of Knuckles' persona was built around turning that loneliness into strength, but he couldn't help but feel a constant emptiness. He never knew his parents, he was the last of his species, and he had an inherently solitary job as his life's work.

            That was why, despite their constant fighting, he was so glad to have her here—he was starved for contact.

            She felt elated at finding his weakness—then hesitated. She'd never felt any guilt taking advantage of someone whose weakness was a vice—it put her, perversely, on the side of justice. But to further injure someone in constant pain already…

            'Stop being so soft!' she demanded of herself. This was her predator side, of course, but she wanted it to speak for all of her. She wanted to be that predator. 'What is wrong with you? You've never hesitated like this before, regardless of what your target's weakness was.'

            'I don't know. I just feel…'

            'Forget it. You're here to reclaim your rightful contentment. This is no different than any other job. You've found the opening; now jam your knife in and twist until you get what you want.'

            She would, then.

            Tomorrow, she would break Knuckles, last of the echidnas.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	7. Chapter Seven

            Angel Island was heading towards some rain squalls. Dawn on the island was usually spectacular, but today the rain clouds blocked the sun and draped a veil of darkness onto the island as a whole.

            Rouge was ready. She abandoned the notion of hunting for treasure. Today she would have nothing to do with it; there would be time for that later. Today, her sole and defining purpose was to break Knuckles to her will.

            The predator gleam was in her eyes as she prepared herself. Her eyes shone with it, brilliant in the fire of her spirit. Knuckles would be her toughest target ever; it would take all her strength to do it. But the feelings she would reap after it was done… yes, she was ready and willing. She knew his weakness, and she would use it.

            She got out of her tent and scanned the area for Knuckles. She was already planning the lines and attacks she would use. Ah! There he was. He was pacing around, apparently without point. He broke into a series of exercises and jumps, then just as quickly resumed pacing.

            'He really is weird,' Rouge thought. She smiled to herself. 'And when I'm done with him, he'll wish he hadn't gotten up this morning.'

            "Knuckles!" she called just as he was entering a hand-stand. To her satisfaction, he tumbled, but he recovered so gracefully she couldn't be sure it wasn't intentional.

            "You're up early," he said, "considering how late you were up last night."

            She shook her head. "Are you kidding? When I'm on a job, I can get by on three hours per night or less. As far as I'm concerned, this was sleeping in."

            He looked at her eyes; she had to fight to suppress her squirm. "Your eyes aren't bloodshot. If you slept that little, I'd expect some red."

            "It's something that's easily managed. Admit it, you just said that so you could stare at my eyes."

            "I won't admit it," he said, but he said it in such a way that Rouge heard the underlying message. "I won't admit it, but that was a reason."

            She decided to fire a test shot. "It's not something you get to do often, is it?" she asked innocently.

            He flinched.

            'I've got you!' she thought. From here on out, it would just be a matter of how effectively she could take advantage of his weakness.

            "I'm not usually worried about someone's eyes," he said, looking away hurriedly. "When someone comes here, their motives matter more to me than their eyes."

            "Then again, that doesn't happen often either, right?"

            He smiled, but she could feel the underlying pain. "I must have quite a reputation," he joked.

            "Indeed. Who would want to come here?"

            He turned on her. "You would," he said angrily. He could tell she was baiting him now, and he didn't like it.

            She laughed cruelly. "I came here in spite of you, not because of you."

            He crossed his arms and faced away, giving a hmph as he did. He was so transparent before Rouge's eyes that she might as well have been seeing with x-rays. He was feeling it now.

            Here was another possible attack. It was a gamble, but the potential was huge. She would go for it. She adopted a guise of innocence. "So, how's Sonic?"

            "What do you mean?" he said gruffly.

            "Well, I haven't seen him since after the victory party. I assume he'd be in contact with you. How is he?"

            The gamble paid off. Knuckles shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. "He—he's only come by here once since then."

            "Oh," she said, still feigning innocence. "When was that?"

            "About two months ago," he said. His voice was beginning to fade.

            "I'm surprised," she said. "I thought that he would be back here more often. I mean, the two of you are friends, right? Given how many times you've helped him out, I would think you'd matter more to him."

            Knuckles' face wrinkled into a frown, which got deeper as she continued to talk. She was scoring full hits, now; she was having more and more affect on him.

            She shrugged. "I guess he didn't like you either, or he'd visit you more."

            "He did save the world again," he said, weakly. "And he was shaken up by Shadow's death. He's a busy hedgehog, he's got a lot to do."

            "For the past three months?" Rouge said skeptically. "You're making excuses for him. I wonder why. He certainly doesn't care for you."

            "I don't like where this conversation is going," he said, clearly disturbed.

            "I know why," she said. She abandoned all pretense of innocence. "You don't want to face an ugly truth."

            "And what ugly truth is that?"

            "That you're just using me!" she said.

            He rocked back on his heels. "What?"

            He was vulnerable. She pressed her advantage with a killer's ferocity. "You don't care who I am or even what I am. You just care that there's someone here who can tolerate you. You're so intolerably lonely that you're desperate for anyone's companionship."

            The words smashed into him. His eyes widened, and he trembled. It was getting much harder for Rouge to speak; she pressed on quickly, both to follow up on Knuckles' weakness and to keep herself engaged.

            "And not even companionship! It doesn't have to be someone who likes you; even someone who shows you no respect, no courtesy, she'll do because she's someone and she's here! Your lack of confidence keeps you from saying this, which makes you even more pathetic!"

            "I'm not listening," he said, voice trembling.

            "What a lie! You're saying that because you don't want to hear it!"

            "I'm not listening!" he screamed, clamping his hands over his ears and falling to the ground.

            "You're afraid of the truth, that's the problem! Your inherent loneliness causes you pain, pain so great you can't stand it, so you create elaborate justifications and reasons why you should be alone! You hide your own loneliness from yourself like the worst of cowards!"

            "Stop!" he shouted at her, his body writhing.

            "You're using me to sate your loneliness!" She was trying to drive it home by repeating 'lonely' as often as possible. "I've never given you anything but grief, but you consider that better than before! You are sick, Knuckles!"

            "Stop!"

            "You never knew your parents, you never had any friends, you've always been alone! From the time you were born, you've been starved for attention and appreciation! You have no connections, and even now the people you most want to see again view you as a waste of their time!"

            "Stop."

            He'd mostly stopped jerking at this point. He'd curled up in a fetal position, trying to hide himself from her rage. His voice had lost all its energy, even its desperation; it was the cry of someone who knew the onslaught wouldn't cease.

            "That's why you're so gullible! You were so happy to see someone that when Eggman came you ate out of his hand! Your loneliness blinded you to the real threat, and when you realized this, you were alone again!"

            "Stop."

            It wasn't working! Rouge had hurt him to the point that he couldn't even respond effectively. It was like punching a pillow. Wherever she hit him, she left a mark, but he didn't respond back. Unlike a pillow, however, he felt pain.

            And somehow, so did she!

            "It's because they all hate you," she said. "I bet your mother said, 'Oh, I hate this baby' and left you on purpose! They didn't want to know who or what you were—a pathetic weakling and coward who can't handle being alone!"

            It was almost impossible to speak to him now. A force inside her was crying out, wailing for her to stop. She had passed all limits of cruelty, let alone decency, and was pulling him apart from the inside.

            And still she felt nothing!

            No content-tingle, no thrill at the conquest, not even the modest satisfaction that she'd beat him verbally! Instead it was actually harming her the further she went!

            'What's wrong?! Why don't I feel something?!'

            'Have I not gone far enough?'

            That was her one hope, so still she pressed on despite the pain she was inflicting on both of them. "Your loneliness makes you think you need to be alone, so you reject everyone! But that intensifies your loneliness! Someday you'll die because of it, you'll be so depressed you'll commit suicide, and then you'll DIE alone! You'll die of loneliness alone!"

            Nothing! Nothing, nothing, nothing!

            Nothing but pain!

            As she spat out the final few words, she actually began crying. She couldn't believe it; she brought a hand to her face—yes, it was an actual tear. She hadn't cried since her birth, but now…

            'I don't understand! I feel nothing! Nothing but pain! I can't even tell whose pain it is!'

            "You'll die alone because you're a stupid person and I hate you!" she screeched like a little school girl, reduced in her abilities to think and act by the mind-numbing pain.

            She dropped to her knees, spent, unable to think, sobbing quietly.

            Knuckles' head lolled to the side. It was so lifeless a motion that for a moment Rouge thought he was dead, that her words had come true.

            He had almost no energy, and it was only because of her bat ears that she heard it at all. He spoke exactly three words to her.

            "You're lonely too."

            If her anatomy had reacted how she felt, her chest would have erupted and her heart shattered. She shuddered violently, her eyes widening until they nearly popped out, her muscles spasming and tightening, her lungs expanding to capacity.

            Then she screamed.

            And she ran. 

            Stumbled over Knuckles. 

            Scrambled. 

            Fell up, tripping, got to her feet. 

            Ran.

            Ran.

            Ran.

            Bounced off trees.

            Plowed through bushes.

            Branches tore at her, scraping at her. 

            She was running without vision; sight didn't matter, and she was blinded by her pain.

            Stumbled again.

            Sprawled out on the ground.

            Thrashed.

            Tore about.

            Screamed, screamed, screamed.

            Her mind was torturing her. She ripped at it with her hands, trying to attack the source of the pain that was overwhelming her.

            But her brain wouldn't stop working, and her skull deflected her strikes.

            Eventually the realities of biology caught her. She collapsed, exhausted, lungs heaving, tears pouring from her eyes.

            She couldn't stop thinking about the three words he'd cursed her with. But in reality, those three words stood for the entire litany of toxic curses that she'd poured upon Knuckles.

            For everything she'd said to him applied to her, as well.

            Knuckles had told her that, and the words were ripping her apart just as they'd done to him.

            The rain clouds opened upon her, pelting her, thousands of little knives piercing her depleted and exhausted body, ringing in her mind, driving her mad.

            And, more than anything, obscuring her tears, so she couldn't even feel her pain righteously.

            She lay there, exposing herself to the elements, for there was nothing worse that they could do than she'd done to herself.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	8. Chapter Eight

            Her tear ducts ached.

            To have gone through such a long period of disuse, then such a sudden and brutal outpouring… it was only natural.

            Compared to the other pains she felt now, it was a minor one.

            Her clothes were soaked through, and she was caked in mud. She noted this only half-heartedly, unable to pay too much attention to it. She sat up against a tree, using it for support. She couldn't summon the energy to sit upright without help.

            'I can't go on like this.'

            A surge of anger at Knuckles coursed through her. How could he have hurt her so? That echidna, she hated him!

            He hurt me! He… he struck my heart… he hit my emotions in a way I never thought possible…

            The anger dissipated as she thought about it. Well, how could he have hurt her? The only way was if there was some opening in her, some weakness to attack. She'd fooled herself all this time into thinking herself invincible while her weakness festered.

            What weakness was it?

            Come now. It was obvious.

            Just as Knuckles was lonely, in much the same way, she was lonely.

            That was why she'd been so adept at tearing him down; her attacks were fueled with empathy. The same problems and forces that worked on him worked on her, as well.

            'Why didn't I know this?'

            Throughout her life, Rouge had wandered, a solitary figure. Other people came and went, minor players in the drama that was her life, but they didn't affect her core; they were expendable. She learned from them, used them, and then got rid of them when they lost their value.

            Attachment, belonging—those were things she associated with weakness, and had purged them from her system. So she, like Knuckles, began to see her isolation as a gift rather than a curse.

            Was it a curse after all?

            Even now, she could find no reason why she should be dependant upon anyone. But the words Knuckles had spoken had affected her so viscerally, there must have been something to them. Whether she knew why or not, she had to have some sort of association.

            She shook as she thought of his words—even thinking about them was chilling to the core. Now that she'd been exposed to the reality of her loneliness, she would never be able to flee from it again.

            Forming some limited interactions and bonds would be a lesser flaw than to continue like this, if she was careful about it.

            There might be something good about it, too. When but in Knuckles' company had she ever felt that content-tingle? She'd felt emotions since coming here that she'd never felt before—or at least, not in a very long time. Certainly she would at least escape the terrible pain she felt now.

            A sudden fear seized her, chilled her spine. But what about him?

            She had just broken him, hurt him horribly! There was no telling if he'd ever speak to her again!

            Rather than recriminate herself, she felt cold terror at the thought. Given how much she'd hurt him, there was the distinct possibility that she'd created an impassible rift between them. How could they interact with so much pain and ill will between them?

            Deep inside, another part of her wailed with guilt. Not to mention that simply harming him so had been atrocious! She realized now that she'd empathized with him as she'd hurt him; the resistance she'd felt to hurting him more and more wasn't just from that empathy, it was from reluctance and guilt to be tearing at him.

            'Does he matter to me as more than just a way to relieve my loneliness? Well, he should. I felt outraged that I would have the same role for him, why shouldn't he? But that's not the question! The question is, Does he?'

            All of that was moot, of course, if she'd been so effective as to end their relationship permanently. It was a terrifying thought.

            'I can't be alone again! Not anymore! Not when I've finally admitted that it's wrong!'

            It was amazing to her how quickly she'd changed. Early this morning, if she'd been told that she would find the thought of being alone horrifying, she would have laughed. In a matter of hours she'd become totally dependent upon the companionship of another person.

            Which, she thought with bitter irony, was what I was trying to induce in Knuckles.

            When she considered it, though, it wasn't so sudden; only the realization was sudden. The need had always been there, it was only now that her mind was catching up.

            With new strength, she got to her feet with a mind to hurry to Knuckles. As she rose, though, he appeared in front of her.

            Her courage and resolve fled. She could see the pain in his eyes, could feel it emanating from his body.

            'Am I too late? Will I be alone?' The thoughts raced through her mind; her heart seized up in fear.

            "Rouge," he said.

            "Yes?" she asked, barely audible.

            "I want… I…" he was having trouble speaking. It strung out Rouge's agony at waiting. She had to know!

            "I want you to… to leave the island," he said.

            Her blood froze.

            He was rejecting her.

            "I c-can't… you've hurt… it's not safe for you to… the Emerald… I…"

            "I'm sorry," she whispered.

            He rocked back on his heels. "W-what was that?"

            "I'm sorry," she repeated, desperate. With all her heart and soul, she wished it to be true.

            She was sorry for what she had done—she'd never do anything like that again—she was begging for his forgiveness!

            He was boggled. "I don't… I…" He had expected her to be callous, to hurt him more as she left—the sincerity of her apology caught him totally off-guard.

            "I… why'd you do it?" he managed.

            She gave a weak, wry half-smile. "I wanted to make it so you wouldn't leave me," she said lamely.

            He shook his head. "Me, leave you? Rouge, that was never the issue."

            "What?" Did she dare hope?

            "I'm not going anywhere," he said. "The question was when you'd leave me."

            Her heart leapt up and hammered against her sternum. Was it possible? She gathered up every last reserve of courage and pushed out one sentence.

            "Then… may I stay?"

            He hesitated, once again throwing Rouge into agony. 'Please, oh please, please…'

            "Yeah," he said at last. "Yeah, you can stay."

            For all of that build-up, Rouge expected she would explode when she got her answer. Instead she could barely keep herself standing. "Thank you," was all she could say.

            "You're welcome," he said. They both smiled, relishing the double meaning, and stood in rocky silence for several long seconds.

            She couldn't stand this much longer. She gathered her wits and tried to pretend that everything was fine. "Good. Now that that's settled… I… I look awful, so I'm going to check the lake's temperature. Don't you dare peek on me."

            "Don't worry about it," he said, semi-smiling. "Apparently there will be more opportunities in the future."

            "Get your mind out of the gutter before it rots," she said, and quickly hurried off. She gave a deep sigh of relief as she slowed down.

            Although she'd left him behind, she knew she was not alone.

            So far, her association with him had brought her grief, pain, uncertainty, dependence, and weakness.

            And still she felt more alive today then on any day before.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	9. Chapter Nine

            Rouge emerged from the water, cleansed and renewed.

            The rain had long since stopped, but the clouds still covered the sun; it was impossible to tell what time it was. She had a clock back at her camp, of course, but that didn't help her now.

            Still, who cared?

            She realized somewhat belatedly that she hadn't brought a towel with her. A naughty smile crossed her face. Aw, who needed one anyway? And she didn't want to get her body suit wet, oh no. She'd just return to her camp and dry off there.

            There was, naturally, the distinct possibility that Knuckles would see her like this. Which, she thought, grin widening, was part of the point.

            Her natural attractiveness was well-known to her and exploited by her. Though under normal circumstances she was partially concealed by fur, the water had pasted it to her body. If ever Knuckles wanted to ogle, now was the time.

            She walked, slowly but surely, back towards her camp. Her ears were alert for any sound. She wondered what would be the best way to react if she encountered Knuckles. Mock outrage? Sly glee? Coy shame? The whole range was open to her, depending only on what she wanted to accomplish.

            She heard a crash and the rustling of leaves to her right. She whipped in that direction, but couldn't see anything. She waited several seconds before deciding it was nothing and continuing on.

            Well, what did she want to accomplish?

            She stalled, even stopped moving. She didn't want to be alone again, she knew that for certain. She also knew that Knuckles wasn't keen on loneliness, either. But the matter of who would constitute their relations—that was undecided.

            She felt suddenly that it had to be Knuckles.

            There was, of course, a rational explanation for that. It was a matter of self-preservation. The fewer people who knew about her weakness, the better. So far, only Knuckles knew. Therefore, it was safest for her to depend upon Knuckles, as it would keep the number of people who knew at one.

            And if that stupid soft spot in her tried to point out an ulterior motive, she would ignore it.

            She started moving again, once more on the lookout for any sign of Knuckles.

            So, she wanted to… what was it? Develop a relationship? What was that, exactly? Rouge found herself at a loss. Seduction she could do, but that was always a precursor to taking total advantage of someone. She didn't want to take that path with Knuckles. In her youth she'd conjured up a pretty good "willing student" act that had gotten her some good training, but there was nothing for Knuckles to teach her; besides, he'd never buy it if she suddenly pretended to be weak.

            In the past, she'd always dealt with those who were stronger than her—it had been a long time since she'd done that!—and those who were weaker than her.

            Never had she interacted equal-to-equal.

            'Now that was bizarre,' she thought. Ever since she'd perfected her arts she'd never had an equal. Yet she'd admit that this echidna was on par with her when she'd spent the past three months making fun of him?

            Well, yes.

            It was embarrassing! If she'd just met someone and they proved themselves her equal, that was one thing, but for someone whom she'd known and dismissed to suddenly rise up was quite another!

            'But that wasn't what happened,' her soft spot said. 'He was always your equal, you're only now admitting it.'

            Shut up! This is so aggravating!

            'What is?'

            You!

            'But I am you.'

            No, you're not! You're a misbegotten deformity that won't stop infecting my psyche!

            'Nonetheless, I am you.'

            Go away!

            She shook her head vigorously, as if that would clear it.

            Knuckles. Focus. What to do with Knuckles.

            'But I don't know what to do with Knuckles!'

            This was maddening.

            When she finally staggered back to her tent, all she had to show for her travel time were some annoying thorns in her fur and a pounding headache.

            She sighed and reached for her luggage. In it was exactly one towel the size of a napkin. The towel she'd wanted was nowhere to be found.

            "NOW what?" she said.

            A few seconds later she heard a soft whump right outside her tent. She poked her head out and saw her towel lying in front of her. It was rumpled and shaken, but there it was.

            She immediately searched for people, using sight, sound, and smell. She could vaguely smell Knuckles—yes, that was the sound of him landing. What was going on?

            First things first. She grabbed the towel and ducked back inside the tent.

            When she reemerged, dried and dressed, Knuckles was waiting for her.

            "It seems I have a magic towel," she said. "It disappears from my bags and reappears outside my tent."

            "I used to know a few sorcerers who could solve that problem for you," Knuckles said, obviously joking. 

            She flashed her teeth. "Can you cut the lame attempts at humor and explain yourself?"

            "I knew that you were going to take a swim and I also knew you didn't bring a towel. My plan was to find a towel and bring it to you."

            She frowned. "Well, I suppose you did, but why did you wait until I got back?"

            He suddenly found it difficult to speak. "Well, by the time I'd gotten the towel, you'd already finished your swim."

            Apparently, he thought that that explained things. "Go on," she prompted.

            "Well, you were naked!" he said. "How was I supposed to get you the towel at that point?"

            "You're naked," she pointed out.

            "Yeah, but you were naked and wet," he countered.

            "Granted," she said, "but I still fail to see what your problem is."

            The two of them stared at each other, unable to communicate.

            "It… wouldn't be appropriate," he said at last.

            "Are you gay?" she said bluntly.

            "No," he said, flustered.

            "Then don't you want to see me naked?"

            Knuckles' blush was visible, which, given his fur hue, was quite a feat. "No," he said again.

            "Why not?" She turned and began posing. "I know there's nothing wrong with me."

            "No!" he said firmly. "You're perfect. It's just…"

            "What?" she snapped, though her heart had fluttered at the compliment. "Can't you just have out with it?"

            "Why are you trying to show yourself naked?"

            She tried to hide how this unsettled her. She covered her face with a smile. "Come now, if I wanted you to see me naked, I'd just strip right here."

            Knuckles crossed his arms, clearly not convinced.

            "What?" she said again.

            "You're just not making sense. And you didn't answer my question."

            "You didn't answer mine," she fought back.

            They stood and stared at each other again, too unsure to go on.

            "If I forget I asked you my question," he said at last, "will you forget the question you asked me?"

            She deliberated a moment—but she already knew her answer. "What question?" she said, her voice not that of a question.

            He smiled. "I don't know. I can't remember."

            After a few more moments of unproductive silence, she turned away. "Well, I need to organize my equipment."

            He shrugged. "Your business. I'll be close by."

            When he wasn't looking at her, Rouge shuddered. What was THAT all about?!

            So odd. Of course she felt no shame talking to Knuckles, even if it were about nakedness. Yet it'd made him extremely uncomfortable—to the point that he couldn't talk about it. It was as if he expected modesty from her—as if he hoped for modesty from her.

            Well, if she took him at his word, then what reason would he not want to see her naked? She'd known all too many males who would strangle Knuckles if they were in his position; if she'd granted them such kindness she could have had them drooling and subservient at her feet.

            Yet Knuckles resisted. Why was that?

            'Is it possible… he doesn't think too highly of me?'

            That couldn't be; he had called her perfect, after all. But she was having trouble coming up with another explanation.

            There was also the fact that he was young, and not used to dealing with people—especially people as beautiful as she. But it couldn't be entirely chalked up to simple inexperience. He was actively avoiding her.

             "It wouldn't be appropriate?"

            That was his explanation, in its entirety. How lousy. Knuckles sure knew how to not help her out.

            For whatever reason, he was trying not to appreciate her. Well, she'd just have to fix that problem! And hopefully, this time, she wouldn't have to rip her heart out to do it.

            Someday she'd find a way to get that content-tingle back—but until then, Knuckles' appreciation would have to do.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	10. Chapter Ten

            Knuckles bounded up to Rouge, his eyes towards someplace else. "Something on your mind?" she asked.

            "Rouge, I've gotta go… guardian business. I need you to come with me."

            "What? No way!" she responded.

            "I have to keep close to you to make sure you don't do anything rash," he said. "Since I've gotta go someplace else, you have to come with me. And since we're low on time, we should go now."

            "Being a guardian is your job, not mine," she said. "I don't do community service. I refuse."

            "You can't refuse! My only other option is to throw you off the island!"

            She crossed her arms. "How about this. I swear on my honor as a Hunter to not leave the immediate area until you return."

            Finally he turned fully to her. "Rouge, what is that supposed to mean?"

            "A member of the Hunter's Guild, while on assignment, is expected to uphold the highest standards of integrity. When you're not on assignment you can be a perfect scumbag, but when acting as a Hunter your honor is paramount. I swear on my honor as a Hunter that your precious jewel will not be threatened by me."

            Throughout her speech he kept glancing over his shoulder. He was obviously out of time. As soon as she finished, he said, "If you're lying, I'll kill you, but I'll take your word for now." Without another word he scampered off at high speed.

            Rouge scoffed. "I don't take very kindly to death threats!" she shouted at his absent form. But as the words echoed in her mind, she realized that the death threat was hollow.

            Knuckles obviously trusted her, or he'd never, ever leave her like this. That was where the emphasis of his last statement was. This was the first time he'd ever let something like this happen. The death threat was merely a formality he used to reassure himself, to convince himself that he was in fact doing his duty.

            Progress. That's what this was a sign of. She was gradually working her way into his confidence. All she had to do was keep her agreement and leave the emerald alone.

            Oh, was that all? Maybe after that she'd get so good at flying that she'd be able to reach orbit.

            The moment she thought about the emerald she felt herself losing sanity. It was an obsession she'd always had—jewelry was an end unto itself. Upon seeing a jewel she liked, she had to have it. The compulsion could be delayed, but never removed. And now, with her attention off of Knuckles and no obstacles between her and her goal, she could feel it seize her mind.

            It wasn't truly an aesthetic reaction, nor was it really because she was greedy. Rather, it was a dark compulsion that overrode all other concerns. She'd never had any luck fighting it, and it had intensified the more often she gave in to it.

            Without thought she moved. She knew where to find the Emerald, and she knew Knuckles was otherwise occupied. It would be no great task to snatch the Emerald—a cakewalk for the legendary Hunter, Rouge.

            Hunter…

            'WAIT!'

            She jerked back as she screamed at herself. 'What are you doing? Didn't you just promise to leave the Emerald alone?!'

            Well, yes. But on the other paw, it's a jewel. A particularly large, beautiful jewel, that also happens to contain ultimate power.

            Once more, she felt her will being swept away. It took all her effort to keep from breaking off into a sprint, headed for the jewel.

            But… but…

            'NO!'

            Even her maximum output of willpower was struggling to contain the voracious desire consuming her now.

            'You see?' it said to her. 'In reality, your coming here had nothing at all to do with Knuckles. You wanted the jewel. So, like always, you manipulated him into letting you get close. Now it's only natural that you take what's rightfully yours. After all, people only deserve to have what they can hold on to—and he's let you take it, if you want it. Oblige him.'

            She'd heard this argument before! Her predator side was back with a vengeance, and it was tearing into her resistance. Time and time again she'd taken advantage of other people's kindness, and time and time again she'd justified it. It wasn't always about jewels; these methods had gotten her wealth, training, equipment, status, many different things. What was so different this time?

            She took a few steps, then a few more, then many more.

            'No! Stop, no!'

            Come on. Why should you stop?

            'Because every time I've done that I've ended up alone!'

            So what? You've never cared before.

            'I do not want to lose Knuckles!'

            The realization struck her with a power that shook her core, to the innermost chambers of her heart. It wasn't that she wanted some generic companionship; it was HIS companionship, specifically, that she hungered for.

            She fell the ground, trembling, her body torn by conflict. She was throwing all her effort in support of her desire to hold on to Knuckles, but her lust for the jewel was overpowering. An idea struck her—she just needed to pull it off!

            She gathered her focus and concentrated on her will to remain on the island, her will to wait for Knuckles, and she managed to gain some control over her body. She staggered towards her tent and dug through her supplies, frantically searching for her salvation. She had to set this up before she lost her strength, before her control over her own body bottomed out. There!

            She rose again and staggered for a tree. 'Knuckles… I want to stay here… I control myself! I control myself! I control myself!

            'I want to stay here with Knuckles!'

            She went to work.

            Knuckles stank from his job, and he knew it. It had been a long, dirty, tiring job. But he had to get back to Rouge's camp—it really wasn't safe to leave her for so long. The longer he waited, the more likely she was to do something stupid.

            He didn't want her to force him to get rid of her. No, there was more to it than that, a dread that increased with each passing day.

            He wasn't sure he COULD get rid of her. 

            He sighed helplessly as he ran towards her camp, aching all over. If she had tried something stupid, he was in no condition to fight her. So now he had three reasons for anxiety. Luckily, he would soon lay them all to rest—she either had or hadn't.

            He broke into the clearing where Rouge had settled down and flicked his gaze around. She was nowhere in sight, but her equipment was still here. He sniffed—her scent was present, if faint.

            "Knuckles? Is that you?"

            Her voice. He sighed in relief as the weight of his concern rose from his shoulders. "Yeah, it's me," he said, jogging in the direction of her voice.

            The sight that greeted him was about as far from his expectations as was possible.

            Rouge's wrists were bound behind her in an impossibly complex knot, and that knot in turn was tied to a tree. The ground exhibited signs of thrashing and turmoil, probably Rouge's thrashing and turmoil, judging from the soil and moss on her clothing.

            "What happened?" Knuckles asked, bewildered. "Was someone else here?"

            "Please," she sneered, "like anyone else could do this to me. No, I set this up myself."

            The words just couldn't penetrate to his head. He heard them, but there was no meaning to them. He didn't understand. "Why?"

            She tossed her head. "One has to practice constantly at one's skills, or they degrade. I put myself in the most complex knot I knew and charged myself to get out of it."

            Knuckles grinned. Of all the self-inflicted miseries, this was the most pathetic. "Looks like it didn't work."

            "Shut up!" she said. Knuckles caught something. Raw as he was in dealing with other people, even he could tell by her voice that there was more to it than she'd revealed.

            "So, do you want to struggle some more, or shall I get you out of this?" he asked.

            She moved into an upright position. "It's pointless to try more," she said as if indifferent. "Besides, it's starting to cut into my circulation, and that just won't do."

            Knuckles approached her from the side and leaned behind her, reaching for her forearm. "Don't even try to hold my hand," she growled.

            "Don't worry," he shot right back, but with a grin. "You'd stab me with your claws if I tried it." He got a firm hold of her forearm with one hand and carefully edged his knuckle-barb under the knot with the other. He was impressed—the knot was extraordinarily tight around her wrists, and it was quite a task to get between the knot and her flesh without hurting her. It was a wonder her hands hadn't already fallen off.

            "Ready?" he asked. She nodded, and he ripped his hand back, tearing out the knot.

            Immediately she sprung away from him, the rope falling from her arms, and vigorously shook her hands out to restore circulation. "Ow, that stings!" she said.

            "You did it to yourself," he said, pre-empting her inevitable blaming of him.

            "I know," she said, then started to laugh.

            "What?"

            "Thank you."

            Huh? Knuckles was getting more and more confused. It was obvious that there was more to her tying herself up than a little self-training, and her thanking him for anything was well off the beaten track as far as their relationship went.

            "Thank you," she repeated, and repeated again, and went on repeating, causing Knuckles to blush ever more brightly.

            "Really, thank you. Thank you. I mean, thank you…"

            "Okay," he said, flustered. "It wasn't that big a—" he stopped mid-sentence.

            She was smiling.

            She'd smiled quite a bit since coming here. But most of those smiles had been predator's smiles—toothy affairs that were more about dominance and menace than about mirth.

            This time he couldn't see her teeth. It was a real, wholesome smile.

            She was beautiful.

            He knew that most people would shout at him, "Well, no duh!" He knew that her body was an object of lust to many. To him, that only put him more on his guard; he had to be suspicious of everyone, and someone looking the way she did just made him more alert for treachery. Her smiles up to now had only reinforced this opinion.

            But THIS smile—so sincere, so frank—the one that made him feel as if he didn't actually need to be on-guard… that was what made her beautiful. This genuine feeling that covered her face now and emanated from her was so powerful he could feel it changing him.

            Changing him—they were both changing. She'd never smiled like this before, and the effect was all the stronger for it.

            She stopped waving her hands, and he noticed again the claws built into them. It occurred to him that, if she'd wanted to, she could've freed herself.

            Apparently she hadn't wanted to free herself, for reasons he couldn't begin to imagine. This whole episode was the product of some lunacy in this mad bat's mind.

            But if cutting ropes from her hands would make her smile like that, would make him feel this way, he would cut them a million times and more.

            To feel this way, to see that smile, there was little he wouldn't do.

            "You're welcome," he said.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	11. Chapter Eleven

            Rouge had to make another trip back to her helicopter to get more food. This time, oddly enough, Knuckles had decided to help her.

            "It's less work for me in the long run," he said, "since we won't have to go back and forth every few days."

            In the past Rouge might have argued the point with him, but the fact remained that he was helping her. No longer did she think of that as a bad thing. No, since he'd helped save her from destroying her future, she was more apt to accept his help on more minor issues.

            Besides, he was stronger than she was, and everything he carried she wouldn't have to.

            They walked back towards her camp as the sun set. "That day just went by so quickly," she said.

            "No, trust me, it took forever," said Knuckles.

            Rouge sniffed again and once more recoiled from his stench. "That 'guardian business' you were talking about?"

            "Oh yes," he confirmed. "It took quite a long time."

            "What were you doing out there?"

            "A small fire broke out, and I had to contain it before it became a full-fledged forest fire."

            Rouge stumbled to a halt. "A forest fire?!" she said incredulously.

            Knuckles nodded. "That's what I said."

            "Well why didn't you say so in the first place?" she screeched. "I would have helped you with something like that!"

            "Really? I thought you didn't do community service," he said, throwing her words back in her face.

            She searched for a comeback, for an excuse, for anything to say to fill the void. She came up empty. She had no way to respond. The vacuum in the air was poisonous.

            Without saying anything, she started walking again and quickly moved ahead of him. She was glad he couldn't see her face.

            'One, two, three.'

            Sweat flew from Rouge's body.

            'And-two, three, and-four.'

            Her feet were a blur of motion, almost requiring an uncertainty principle all their own: an observer could tell only where they had been, never their actual location.

            'One-and-two, three, four-and-five.'

            Her hands were active, too, but stayed close to her body; she was only too aware that her real strength was her legs, and her arms, while useful, had another purpose.

            'One, two-and-three.'

            She kept the beat in her mind as she danced, her eyes and ears alert, closely watching her partner in this dance. The beat was not that of a song; it was too changeable, reacting to the dancers rather than the other way around.

            'One, two, CRAP!'

            Knuckles did something unexpected, breaking out of the rhythm and lunging at her. Rouge had been in the process of changing direction, and she couldn't get her legs up to defend herself.

            She whipped her arms at his eyes, but he swatted them away contemptuously. He body-checked her, knocking her to the ground and rolling over her.

            The air was crushed out of Rouge by his weight; she spat at him futilely at point blank range. Then he was off of her, but she was slow to recover. She rolled to her belly and got her feet under her, facing Knuckles from an all-fours position as the echidna turned back to her.

            She could see his desire to press her now, but he hesitated, unsure of what she might do from this posture. Her mind was working furiously to solve the same problem. He decided to attack from above, giving a little jump and swinging down at her.

            He hung in the air too long. Rouge fired her legs and skittered out to where he'd been, turning and reassuming a standing position. By the time she'd done this, Knuckles reoriented and was facing her again.

            The two stood there, panting in exertion, unwilling to make the next move. Then Rouge smiled and gave a polite bow; Knuckles responded by dropping his fists to his sides.

            "We have to do that again sometime," she said. "That was fun."

            He smiled in return, making Rouge's insides flutter. "Yeah, it was a great workout. It was more even than I thought."

            "I could say the same," she said, tossing her head imperiously.

            Knuckles just laughed. Her arrogance was almost a joke to them by now.

            She walked back towards her tent and began analyzing their combat. "You are stronger than I am, there's no doubt about that, but you're also slower. And my kicks have more reach than your punches."

            "You know what your problem is?" Knuckles said.

            "You mean you've actually found one?" she said.

            "You're too cute."

            She laughed—not her usual condescending laughter, but out of genuine surprise and amusement. "First time I've heard that, Hunter!"

            As soon as she said it, she did a mental double-take. Calling him a Hunter placed him on her level. Well, hadn't he just now earned that status? Yes, but she didn't want to admit it. 

            Then again, she was giving him more and more credit these days.

            "You hold too much back, and you're too formal," explained Knuckles, unaware of the division in Rouge's mind. "You're still holding to the mindset that you should fight with the least energy possible. You can't be arrogant with me. And your style is limited; you never saw that body-check coming."

            That, at least, was true. "I thought we were sparring, I didn't know it would be a street-fight," Rouge said over her shoulder.

            "Like I said, you held too much back. You weren't willing to do whatever it took to win."

            "But that's not true," said Rouge defensively. "I mean, you know that from experience. When I was spying on Eggman, I went as far as to steal three Chaos Emeralds just to keep my cover! My whole life I've been like that, totally devoted to my goals."

            Knuckles snorted and shrugged. "Not since you came here."

            Rouge turned her attention back to her task, but her mind was racing. Methodically she replaced the metal toes to her boots that changed them from footwear to weaponry, and that she'd removed for this sparring match. In the same way, she knew he was removing the extra padding from his knuckle-barbs that had made them 'safe'. Now that they had had their fun, they went back to being "armed and dangerous".

            It gave her something to do while she pondered.

            Why should she hold back?

            It would help if she knew what her goals were.

            She glanced over at Knuckles. He'd finished and was sitting, waiting for her. Suddenly self-conscious, Rouge turned away from him.

            'Can it be…'

            No. That couldn't be right.

            Was she afraid of him?

            Okay, not really him; if she was scared of his capabilities, she would never let him spar with her. She was afraid of what opening up to him would be like. After all, if she let him past her defenses, he had the potential to really hurt her. She'd felt that once before, when she'd tried to break him, and was in no mood to reprise that.

            Yet that contradicted her newfound principle to not be alone. Aloneness was her defense mechanism, yet it hurt her too; befriending Knuckles stopped that hurt, but breached her defenses.

            Paradox.

            'How does anyone live in this world?' Rouge thought despairingly.

            She turned back to him. He just went right on staring at her, waiting patiently for her to do or say something. 'The only way I know how to live,' she thought, 'is to decide what's important and work it out as best I can. Eventually I have to stop worrying about what's best and DO something. And I'm tired of hesitating.'

            "Knuckles," she said haltingly, "what do you usually eat?"

            "Just the stuff on the island," he said. "Termites and ants, mostly, and fruit."

            "Well, I worked up an appetite just now. The food I brought isn't the best, but it's stuff you've never had before and might want to try."

            Knuckles shook his head. "We shouldn't eat right after exercising, we'll cramp up."

            Rouge's temper flared. "Fine," she bit, "eat on your own!" She turned away and attempted to storm off.

            Knuckles leapt over her and landed facing her. "That's not what I meant," he said before she could rage at him. "I meant we shouldn't eat right away. I'll eat with you, that part sounds fine."

            Rouge felt a blush tint her cheeks. She and Knuckles stood in awkward silence, each shifting uncomfortably.

            "Okay," she said at last—it was all she could, and all she needed.

            Knuckles began to laugh. "What's so funny?" asked Rouge, beginning to chuckle herself. The effect grew as each laughed more until the proud warrior and treasure hunter had dissolved into fits.

            It was meaningless and purposeless, and it felt very good.

            And Rouge tingled.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	12. Chapter Twelve

            Rouge was right—the food wasn't the best. But Knuckles was devouring it all the same.

            "You were really tired of the fruits-and-ants diet, weren't you?" she asked.

            He nodded thoughtfully while he chewed. "I think you could say I was ready for a little variety. Fifteen years of ants was getting kind of old. I mean, they taste different depending on which species and where the nest is, but when it comes down to it, ants are ants."

            Rouge laughed. "Sometime, I'm going to have to show you what real eating is like. In reality, this is pretty poor. I prefer better food, but this was more portable. But I know places down there that produce food so good it could almost kill you. I'm sure, with the bland diet you've had, that you'd be comatose after a few bites, but it would be the happiest coma you'd ever have."

            "That sounds really bizarre," Knuckles said. "The happiest coma?"

            "I was hoping you wouldn't be dead," she replied—and realized after the words had passed her lips what they meant. Hoping for Knuckles to live meant that she actually had some investment in his life. With most of the people she'd known, their life or death mattered to her only on a professional or practical level, but not personally. Knuckles did.

            Wishing against his death was as close as she could come to admitting that, slowly but surely, she was beginning to like the last of the echidnas.

            "I have a question for you," said Knuckles, breaking into her reverie.

            "I'm ready," she responded.

            "Are you actually planning to do any treasure hunting while you're here?"

            Rouge laughed heartily. "I wanted to, I really did, but I'm beginning to run out of time. I'll do the preliminary work, but I won't do any full hunting. Mostly I'll just get a feel for the island and its places. I do have a tight schedule, I'm in very high demand. And I'm always on call," she said. She reached behind her and pulled out a satellite phone array, drawing her fingers along its back. "It used to say GUN here. It's military-grade communications. It's so the President can contact me at any time should a crisis come up."

            "This is another thing that's bothered me," Knuckles said. "How is it possible you're working for the president?"

            "What do you mean?"

            "Well, you're not exactly… law-abiding."

            She smirked. "Which is one of the reasons he appreciates my services. As to why I accept… for starters, my rate while on duty is good, but I get a retainer to carry that array around. They pay me to be on-call. Normally they don't call me often, so the retainer makes a nice little way to earn money for doing nothing."

            "How much money do you have, exactly?"  
            "You don't want to know."

            He chuckled. "Hm… for some reason, I figured there would be another reason."

            Rouge scratched her ears. Should she reveal these things to him? Well, of all the people she could tell, he was the least likely to blab about it to someone else. Honestly, how often would he discuss her with someone else? It was safe.

            Besides, she wanted to.

            "For another thing, it's fun. The President usually gives me very difficult assignment that other people just can't manage, so it's a lot of fun to work for him. But the main reason… There's a little-known file in the President's office," she said. "Not in the normal files, but in the private ones. Each time I do a job for the President, a bit of that file disappears."

            "And in that file is information about you," Knuckles said, catching on. "Specifically, about your criminal activities?"

            "Mostly. But it's the entire file I want deleted. The only people who need to know about me are the people who already do. I don't want more scrutiny, particularly from the government."

            Knuckles laughed like he'd just heard the funniest joke ever. "Care to enlighten me as to what's so funny?" Rouge asked.

            "You do community service!" he said in between laughs. He reached for more food.

            "I do not! I get paid handsomely for my work!"

            "But the point is that you do government jobs in exchange for getting rid of your record. That sounds like community service to me!"

            "How can breaking laws be community service? Especially given my rules for bounties and acquisitions?"

            "Let me guess: when you're spying on someone, any jewels that 'disappear' from his possession are yours to keep?"

            "Of course. If they let me that close, they deserved it!" she said. "Anyone who doesn't protect their jewels deserves to lose them."

            Knuckles turned away suddenly, his face downcast.

            'Was it something I said?' Rouge wondered.

            "What is it?" she asked.

            "Nothing," he said. "I just suppose that I'm included in "anyone"."

            She drew back. What had she said? "Not—no, you don't," she said hurriedly.

            He turned towards her and raised an eyebrow.

            "I told you, I'm on my Hunter's honor not to steal it. I mean, when you went to put out that forest fire, I could have stolen it then, but I didn't!"

            He seemed to brighten a bit, and Rouge was suddenly chilled. 'But I had to tie myself up to do that! Oh, please don't ask about that! Don't ask about that! Don't ask about that!'

            His trust in her mattered more than simply determining how closely he guarded her. It had more value than that—it mattered to her personally.

            He didn't ask; he smiled instead. "Yeah, that's right," he said. "Hey, when you came to the island before, were you looking for it, or were you on another assignment and it was nearby?"

            "I was just lucky," she said, silently sighing in relief. "I'd heard of it a lot before—in my line of work, you can't help that—and when I came across it I couldn't pass it up. I was actually already looking for Eggman at that point, but when I saw Angel Island, I thought to myself, 'Well, I guess the lard-bucket can wait a few hours, right?'"

            Knuckles crossed his arms. "Great, so generation after generation of thieves couldn't even find the island, and when someone finds it by pure accident it's almost stolen? I feel weak."

            Rouge pouted and rubbed her shoulder where, in their first encounter, he'd driven one of his knuckle-barbs into her. "My shoulder doesn't think you were so weak!"

            He laughed. "We're reversing our usual roles. I'm calling myself a weakling and you're complimenting me. Usually it's you insulting me, and me pointing out your arrogance."

            She shrugged. "Or I can go back to insulting you, if you want me to. I'm flexible."

            He mock-considered for a moment, but couldn't keep his smile off his face. "No, I think I like your flattery better."

            They laughed.

            Rouge's mind wouldn't let her sleep. Too much had happened.

            She and Knuckles had explored some of the upper regions of the abandoned mines. They looked like they might pan out pretty well, but she hadn't been able to concentrate as well as she might have hoped.

            She left her tent and walked to where Knuckles was curled up. As before, his sleeping form was pathetic, a revelation of the weakness and—she realized now—the loneliness in the mighty guardian.

            "I should feel angry at you," she said. "You're part of the reason I can't sleep. You must be laughing at me for that. Yeah, well, I'd prefer not sleeping over sleeping how you sleep any day."

            She tingled when she finished speaking—not because of her words, but because of this proximity to Knuckles unveiled.

            Against her will, against her better judgment, against the tendencies and methods that had brought her success and wealth in this world, Rouge… was… feeling… some…

            …_affection_ for this wretched creature.

            So… unnatural, unwanted, unearned… but more powerful for all of that. The sheer improbability, no, impossibility of it was intoxicating.

            She looked up, past him, almost afraid of what she might do if she kept focusing on him. She tried to think of other things—and her mind picked up a train of thought from the other day. Out there, in the middle of the island, was the jewel. Its presence was the other reason she couldn't sleep.

            'He's down and out; he won't bother you. You can go in, snatch the jewel, and be gone before he wakes. No problem whatsoever. You can afford the equipment losses; it would be peanuts compared to the value of that massive emerald.'

            The madness, the desire was sweeping over her again. Tormenting her.

            "I will not submit to this," she said. "I will not let my desire control me again." She looked down. "I would lose Knuckles, and I… I can't deal with that. Not even for the jewel."

            She calmed. The insanity broke and receded from her thoughts.

            "Though, naturally, feeling attached to you is also a form of insanity," she said, shaking her head at the sleeping guardian.

            A newer compulsion came upon her. She went to her tent, then returned to Knuckles' sleeping form. She grunted as she lifted his head, then let it fall again. She then returned to her tent, satisfied—and with one less pillow beneath her head.

            Her spare was beneath Knuckles.

            She was finally able to sleep.

            When she awoke, Knuckles had already been up and active for a while. She emerged from her tent to see him stretching.

            "How was the pillow?" she asked.

            Knuckles turned his neck, which emitted a loud crack. "Not too good," he said. "I've slept on the ground all my life, that wasn't gonna change in one night."

            Rouge narrowed her eyes; it was the only outward expression of her anger at his ingratitude. "Fine. May I have my pillow back?"

            Knuckles pointed, then resumed stretching.

            Rouge stomped in that direction, but when she came upon it, it wasn't how she expected. The pillow itself was lying on top of one of her packs, keeping it off the ground, while the pillowcase was suspended from a tree branch, drying.

            "It got really dirty last night," Knuckles called after her, "so I gave it a quick wash in the lake."

            She looked back at him. He'd been staring after her, and speedily turned away. She smiled. 'Darn it, now I can't be mad at you.'

            "Thank you," she said.

            "No problem," he replied.

            'But it's not like I wanted to be mad at you in the first place,' she thought. 'I really must be going insane. But I think I like it.'

TO BE CONTINUED…


	13. Chapter Thirteen

            "… So the talks are scheduled to begin in a week," Rouge said as she climbed over a rock.

            "What are they talking about?" Knuckles asked.

            "What to do with ARK," she said. "It was supposed to have been destroyed fifty years ago, but GUN shut it down and garrisoned it instead. Now, every person on Earth knows ARK exists and is scared to death about it."

            Knuckles shook his head. "It only ever worked it if had Chaos Emeralds."

            "But most people don't know that, and the Chaos Emeralds have been rather easy to find of late, don't you think?"

            Knuckles nodded. "Yeah, used to be you had to put forth a lot of effort to find and secure them. These days, you almost can't help but find Emeralds."

            "Which is why the Eclipse Cannon is still a threat. Besides, there's a lot of dangerous things on ARK other than the cannon—projects of every type and description. There was a time when ARK was a hub of scientific activity. Gerald was just the lead researcher on one of the many teams that worked there."

            "And all of them were liquidated because of Gerald's research? What a waste!"

            "Well," Rouge countered, "pretty much every researcher somehow contributed to either the Ultimate Life Form project or the Eclipse Cannon project. Even if their research was on something else, it had implications that were used in one of those two. I agree it's wasteful to kill them all, but everyone was involved with those two programs, so I understand. I mean, biologists worked on the genetic engineering, chemists designed the processes and materials to make up the body, physicists worked on the Eclipse Cannon…" she stopped suddenly. "Actually, there was a team of astronomers working there. All they did was park their offices near the high-power telescope and look through it all the time. So I guess they should have been left alone."

            Knuckles laughed. "Bad day to be an astronomer."

            "Tell me about it. Anyway, now that ARK's capabilities are common knowledge, everybody wants it and everyone has an opinion on what to do with it. Some high-level talks with the various interested parties will begin in a week."

            "And the President wants you there to get an edge on the competition."

            She smiled slyly. "Nothing expedites a negotiation like holding all the cards. If the President knows what the other parties want and will give beforehand, he can strike the best deal possible."

            "Best as far as he's concerned."

            "In my capacity as a spy, that's all I care about."

            Knuckles began scaling a rock wall, confident that Rouge could and would follow. 'Well,' she thought, 'I wouldn't want to disappoint you.'

            "How do you know all this?" he asked despite the strain of climbing.

            "Some of it comes from the President," she answered. "The rest I found out by poking around ARK."

            "You sure were nosy," he teased.

            "As a spy, being nosy is my job. Besides, I was curious. Weren't you?"

            "No, I was too busy trying to figure out how to save the world."

            "That's right. I, luckily, had much more spare time than you, so I used it to figure all of this out."

            "Well, at least you weren't lazy." He pulled himself over the top of the wall onto a ledge, then turned and offered a hand to Rouge.

            "I don't need your help," she said, but without threat or venom. She grabbed his hand anyway, and he pulled her to the top.

            Rouge looked down from their perch and saw Angel Island stretched out before them. Knuckles spoke, but Rouge kept looking; there was so much to see! "This is where I go when I need to convince myself my life isn't so bad," he said.

            "I can see why this is the place," she said, her eyes soaking up the details, darting from place to place. "Everything that's beautiful about this island you can see from here."

            "If you're gonna be stuck alone and bored out of your skull somewhere, it should be here," he said wryly. "I can't not be a Guardian any more than I can not be an echidna, and I've accepted that. But the only thing that ever happens is an intruder arrives, which is very bad. It's just… well…" he suddenly grew quiet.

            "What?" she asked. He was letting her further and further in, letting him see the parts of him he kept armored, and she was not going to let him stop now.

            "I'm protecting the world by guarding this stupid Emerald, but the best thing that can happen is that noone realizes it."

            "Like a spy whose job is to remain unnoticed," Rouge said appreciatively.

            "I guess," Knuckles said, unsure, "but those spies report to someone, right? I report to the Emerald, which, you might guess, isn't the best of company. It's not all loneliness, though."

            "Some of it is," Rouge said, instinctively rubbing over her heart with her free hand.

            "Yeah, some, but… well, I only realized this when I met Sonic. Sonic saves the world by fighting Robotnik, and everyone goes wild. I save the world by protecting the Master Emerald… and I can't let anyone know it."

            There was silence for several long seconds; the air was thick with Knuckles' despair. Rouge had to do something. "I save the world, and I don't want anyone to know it," Rouge said with a smile.

            "Of course. It might give you a good name," he said, also smiling.

            About that time Rouge realized that they hadn't released each other's hands yet.

            Rouge suddenly felt the urgent need to inspect the nails on her right hand. She dropped Knuckles' hand and brought hers to her face. Knuckles, for his part, sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

            They didn't dare look at one another.

            Rouge tapped her skull, deep in thought.

            "Well?" asked Knuckles.

            "I'm trying to remember if there are any more protocols. I don't want another Hunter to claim this area if I follow incorrect protocol."

            Knuckles rolled his eyes. "There's not another 'Hunter' I'd let on this island."

            "Comforting as that is, Knuckles, I want to do this right, if only for form's sake."

            "Cut it out, Rouge."

            "Cut what out?"

            "This whole stupid charade about the Hunter's Guild! There is no stinking Hunter's Guild! I had Sonic look it up for me! It doesn't exist!"

            "It does so exist!" shouted Rouge right back.

            "In your head!"

            Rouge stomped to her backpack, opened it, and whipped out a piece of paper. "Look right here!" she said. "This is documented proof!"

            Knuckles took it and read. "Hunter's Guild Constitution," he said, surprised.

            Rouge crossed her arms and waited as he read. He looked up at her after several moments. "How many people are actually members of this "guild"?"

            "That's not the point!" she said, snatching the paper back. "The point is that there are rules of conduct, written down, that provide a guide to Hunters on how to act. It's important to know how to behave, and the Hunter's Guild provides guidelines on how to do that."

            Knuckles looked confused. "You mean, you provide guidelines on how to live your own life, right?"

            "No, no, no," Rouge said. "The Hunter's Guild has guidelines on how I am to act as a Hunter."

            "Rouge, you're still not making sense. If no one else is involved, isn't this just you doing this to yourself?"

            "Most assuredly not."

            Knuckles suddenly changed the way he looked at her. "Rouge, who are you?"

            She drew back. "What is that supposed to mean?"

            "You told me that your personality depended upon your job. Like now, you base your conduct on your job as a Hunter. But who are you, really?"

            Rouge felt completely hollowed out. Her insides exploded into vacuum, filling her with an icy nothingness.

            Who was she? She answered with the responses she'd always given herself—she was a spy, a thief, a Hunter. But Knuckles was forcing her deeper than that, and she realized with terror that she could not answer him.

            Rouge adapted her actions and personality to match her occupation—but there was a person, some Rouge-being, that existed regardless and independent of her job. What scared her was that she had no idea who that person was.

            "Don't you know me by now?" she said, weakly, almost begging him to tell her.

            He shrugged, as if unaware of her petrifaction. "I suppose so," he said, and walked off.

            'He… knows who I am?'

            She felt an initial surge of anger at him—well, if he knew, why didn't he tell HER? Talk about rude!

            The anger vanished in a second as something much more important came to her.

            This is what he offered her. This was why his company was so important to her, why it mattered in a way none of her past associations had.

            He didn't care about her job. She had no appearance to keep up with him. In his company, she'd said, done, and felt things she would never have done in any other context. With him, she was free.

            It was only with Knuckles' help that she would find out who she truly was.

            She watched him exercise more, practically oblivious to her presence. She realized she was staring, but that didn't stop her; she just kept on, watching him carefully. With surprise, she realized that he'd stopped exercising and was now flexing, showing off. He knew she was watching and was toying with her.

            She laughed—and tingled.

            With time, and in Knuckles' company, she would find what else lurked in this soul that called itself Rouge.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	14. Chapter Fourteen

            The day was a fast but productive one. Rouge and Knuckles had investigated the mines, and—to her delight—they seemed to be intact and active. She'd claimed them as her protocols required, though—naturally—she acknowledged that they really 'belonged' to Knuckles as much as they belonged to anyone. That didn't change much.

            All in all, everything was working out for her.

            Until the call came in.

            And when it did, she made her decision.

            Rouge sat on a log, full on melancholy, her wings slumped lifelessly at her sides.

            She was waiting. Knuckles had to realize her condition sooner or later. She needed him now—needed him badly.

            "What is it?"

            His voice. Finally.

            She turned to where his voice was coming from, her eyes large and pleading. Normally Knuckles would immediately have gone to guard mode, as this was very suspicious out of Rouge. But time and contact with her had softened him, and his gut reaction was one of concern, not hostility.

            Rouge motioned to the log beside her. He sat down, and she moved closer to him. He took a sharp breath in as she pressed her body closer to his. She extended a wing around his back, drawing him in towards her.

            "Knuckles… We haven't been that honest with each other, have we?"

            "I… don't know what that means," stuttered Knuckles.

            "Here's what I mean. We've been keeping each other at arm's length constantly. These past days we've gotten closer, but we haven't been able to admit it."

            "I don't know what you're getting at," Knuckles said, beginning to blush, "and I'm not sure I like it."

            "Please don't say that," Rouge whispered.

            There was silence, as they sat in contact with one another.

            Rouge hesitantly reached upwards with one hand. "Knuckles…" she began. "How many women have you ever known?"

            He shifted uncomfortably. "Counting you… one."

            "Then you've never been kissed?"

            His entire body seemed to stiffen and tremble slightly. "Kissed?"

            "Let me show you." She moved to grab his chin with her hand. He immediately tried to move away, and she stopped to ease his perception of threat. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "Trust me."

            Softly, she wrapped her fingers around his chin and turned his head in her direction. She ever-so-slowly drew his head forward. As she brought him closer, she angled his head up and tilted her head to avoid his muzzle. Closer she drew him in, closer.

            Closer.

            Closer.

            Contact.

            At first he was unresponsive, but she kept pressing her lips onto his, and almost before he knew it he was kissing her back.

            Rouge was completely fixated on the moment. She released his chin and circled her arms around him, pressing his body close. The longer the kiss went on, the more he fell into it, the more he lost control of his own actions. She could feel his volition seeping out through his lips.

            She gradually released him, and when she looked into his eyes again, he was a changed echidna. His eyes were alight with something primitive and fiery.

            She grasped his hand and stood. He stood to match her. "Come with me," she said. She turned and walked for her tent.  She went inside, and after a moment's hesitation, he followed.

            Rouge breathed deeply in the air. His scent—their scents, actually—filled the atmosphere of the tent. The smell of it was intoxicating; she breathed again, filling her lungs with the sweet aroma.

            As she lay on her side, she felt his body heat behind her, his presence close by and mingling with her sense of self. She wasn't sure if he was still conscious or not, but lying like this was wonderful—as long as she could afford to stay here.

            She was no stranger to sex, but it had never been like that. Mainly because never had she wanted it so badly.

            She felt his gloved hand caress her ear, the feeling like lightening; it twitched involuntarily. He nestled his muzzle into her neck. "That was unlike anything I've ever done," he said.

            She smiled. "I thought it would be." She chuckled.

            "What?"

            "I was just thinking. Technically, that was illegal—you're still a minor."

            "Oh really?" he said. His tone was bemused, but there was a hint of uncertainty.

            "Don't worry, it's not like anyone's enforcing the law up here, right? Besides, as far as my crimes go that was a lesser offence."

            Knuckles laughed a little, but not much. Rouge hardly noticed his lack of enthusiasm.

            She reached towards her backpack. "What is it?" Knuckles asked.

            "I have to check the time," she said.

            He laughed. "What, do you have some kind of schedule?"

            Rouge froze suddenly. This was going to be bad, she knew. She swallowed the fear growing in her and continued her movement. "Well, yes, in a manner of speaking."

            Knuckles removed his hand from her ear. "What manner?"

            Rouge didn't respond. It was too dangerous. 'Please,' she thought. 'Please don't keep asking. I won't be able to lie to you, so it would be better for you not to ask.'

            "Rouge, why are you on a schedule?" His voice was insistent. She wouldn't be able to evade him. Better to tell him right out.

            "I'm leaving in a few hours."

            Knuckles shot into a sitting position. "A few hours?!" he said.

            "Yes," she answered, as nonchalantly as she could manage. "The President called me. He wants me to start working the field before the talks begin, so he wants me back now."

            Knuckles sounded like something was caught in his throat. Then he slapped himself. "How could I have been so stupid?!" he screamed.

            "When were you stupid?" Rouge said, suspicious of the answer.

            "Why did I let you seduce me like that?"

            "That! That was not seduction! I know what seduction is, and that wasn't it!" Rouge stormed.

            "Yes it was! It's not what I wanted!"

            "You seemed pretty wanting when I kissed you," Rouge said, trying to keep her voice somewhat under control.

            "But it wasn't right! Oh… how could I have let this happen?!"

            "I'm still trying to figure out what was so terrible about it," Rouge said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. Her own thoughts were flying away in her determination to not be wrong. "It was just a little sex between friends."

            "Just a little… THAT'S the problem, Rouge! It means a lot more to me than it obviously does to you! Rouge, you've changed me! What just happened has changed me! And now you're leaving—like tearing a hole in someone and not letting it clot!"

            "You're not making sense," Rouge snarled. As much as she wanted to keep things toned down, her hackles were rising. His tone was too threatening; she was reacting as she would to a threat. "You tossed out a metaphor and I don't get it."

            "How can you not get it? You made me totally dependent upon you and now you're leaving. You used me—you took what you wanted and that's that."

            "What?!" she screeched.

            "It must be why you have to have people's jewels—you can't stand them having something you can't have. You have to be able to own anything. Well, you got it. Never mind what happened to me! How I might feel about it never entered your head!"

            "I don't know what you're saying and I don't like it!" Rouge said.

            "Simple denial, bat, that's all. I feel… oh, how could I have been so stupid?!"

            "You're wrong! It's not like I decided to seduce you and then engineered a message to get me out of here!"

            "No, you just wanted to not have to come here again. Well, you'll get that, certainly!"

            Rouge couldn't think coherently. Never mind what she said, what she'd done with Knuckles mattered deeply to her; but her emotions were all tangled up and confused. She'd gone to him—why? To have something of him before she left? That didn't even make sense!

            When she'd gotten the message, her first instinct was to go to Knuckles for this purpose. But WHY? What had she hoped to find there?

            "I know what your problem is," she sneered. Somehow, her viciousness was unaffected by the meltdown in her mind. "You're all confused because you don't know how to handle sex, and it's frying your brain."

            "Isn't the same thing happening to you?"

            "No!"

            He threw his hands in the air. "What a blatant lie! Oh… how could I? I gave you so much power and was stupid enough to believe you'd be responsible with it!"

            "Responsible?" she spat.

            "I couldn't stop you. I've broken down, and I counted on you to be careful."

            "Oh, so this is all MY fault!" Rouge screamed. "I'm supposed to think for the both of us while you abdicate any responsibility!"

            "But you never even considered how I felt! I didn't want this! You thrust it upon me because you panicked when it was time to leave! How could I have been so stupid?!"

            "Stop saying that!"

            "And now I have nothing to offer you! There's nothing I can give or provide to you. There's no longer any reason for you to come back here… except… except for the…"

            "The emerald?" she completed for him, voice full of scorn. "If you're going to rage and sputter, can't you at least use half a brain? I thought we'd been over this issue before! I'm bound by my Hunter's honor!"

            "But… damn it! Who's to say you'll come back as a Hunter? You have no honor as a spy or thief! Your personality depends on your job! If you ever do come back, I couldn't accept you! Your 'job' could be spy or thief and… how did I let myself so close to a security risk?!"

            "Because you're lonely," she said mockingly.

            "Don't even start that again!" he howled. He got up and crawled out of the tent, making choking noises.

            "Where are you going?!" Rouge said after him.

            "What do you care? You're abandoning me!"

            The words stuck her. She buried her pain in anger. "You're still afraid of me!" she yelled. "All of this time and you still fear me!"

            "Of course I do! You just tore me apart!"

            "Don't leave!"

            "I'm not going anywhere! You're leaving me! And you're fine with that!"

            Her soul shook. "That's not true!" she screamed. "It can't be!"

            "Then what are you doing?"

            Spite took over. "You're right! All I wanted was to strip your virginity and run! I don't care what happens to you and I hate you!"

            He continued walking away from her, his sobs turning into wails. She wanted above all else to get him to come back, but she had no self-control. "And you know what? I don't care about sex that much! You're the tenth person! And they were all better lovers than you!" she said, totally breaking down.

            He was out of sight, but his disembodied scream of agony reached her with full force. Her heart was tearing at her chest. She turned away from him and dashed towards the edge of the island, liberally watering the nearby plants with her tears.

            Her mind was in total shock, shut down to prevent further harm to herself. She ran for her helicopter, abandoning everything on the island. She blindly threw herself into it, her training coming to her purely by rote and not in the least by any conscious effort. She practically dashed her skull open as she got into it at a full run and nearly smashed the helicopter several times. But nothing mattered. The one and only thing she cared about was getting as far away from Knuckles the Echidna as was possible.

            "I hate you," she murmured. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you! I HATE YOU!"

            Her ears were in agony from the sound of the helicopter, but she was too desperate for escape to pay them any heed. "I could never love someone who could hurt me like this!" she screamed. "I hate you!"

            "I hate you!"

            She barely managed to get keep the helicopter from slamming into the water and killing her. All her effort flowed into keeping her from suicide. She was in so much pain it seemed attractive.

            "This doesn't make sense!" she screamed. "I hate you, Knuckles!"

            And for hours, she cried.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	15. Chapter Fifteen

            All thoughts of job or duty were forgotten. Neither of them did anything they were supposed to do. Knuckles wandered thoughtlessly about his island, drifting through its different areas without motivation, and running as he did to get away from the scene.

            Rouge was in a haze. How, exactly, she got from the island to land was a mystery, and how she traveled and moved from there was a greater mystery.

            What she did know was that she ended up in Station Square.

            Rouge inspected her glass carefully, softly swirling the liquid inside, before downing it in a single shot.

            Her eyes drifted out of focus for a few seconds before she realigned them. Nope, she hadn't reached her goal yet.

            "Bartender, another one."

            The higher the percentage of alcohol in a drink, the smaller the servings it's given in. So Rouge was forced to order shot after shot to achieve her goal of drowning herself in 200-proof antidepressant. It wasn't working.

            She'd arranged a small pyramid of used shot glasses. The bartender carefully took the pyramid down, flipped one of the glasses, filled it, and handed it to Rouge. She grabbed it greedily and downed it in one gulp.

            No, still not there.

            She was still thinking about Knuckles.

            So she wasn't drunk enough.

            "Can you just pour out ten or twelve?" she said to the bartender.

            "Ten more and you'll go into a coma," the bartender said. "'Sides, you can only get one drink at a time, just like everyone else."

            "Then gimme that one more and I'll do the other nine when I get to 'em," she said.

            The bartender hesitated, but poured her drink and handed her the glass. This time Rouge merely fingered the glass, not drinking immediately.

            She hated Knuckles, hated him bitterly. And now he was cursing her by refusing to allow her to think about anything else. It was infuriating, even more so given that there was nothing she could do about it.

            The only thing she could try and do was to fill her brain with alcohol so that it washed all thought of Knuckles away. No luck so far.

            An annoying buzzing sound was near her right ear. It must have been someone talking to her. Rouge was in no mood to deal with anyone, so she ignored it in the hopes that it would go away. It didn't; if anything, it grew more insistent. Rouge rested her cheek on her left palm, her right arm free in case this idiot tried anything stupid.

            She felt a hand on her shoulder. Without thought she brought her right hand up, grabbed her assailant's wrist, and twisted clockwise.

            The force of the twist worked on the construction of the shoulder joint in such a way that her poor attacker was flipped over sideways.

            Something was odd, though. Normally, that move also broke the person's wrist. Obviously her victim was very tough. She half-heartedly looked in his direction, some remote part of her mostly-non-functional brain curious.

            It was Sonic!

            She turned all the way to look at him, and there was no mistaking it—it was, indeed, the hedgehog. He was standing now and brushing himself off, saying, "I probably deserved that."

            "Sonic?" Rouge asked.

            "You got it." He grinned and sat down next to her. "I haven't seen you since the victory party. That's too long. So when Bob told me you were here, I came as soon as I could."

            "Bob?" Rouge asked, her mind still unable to focus much.

            "The bartender," Sonic said. "He and I are friends. I told him to watch out for you, Knuckles, even Eggman, and to call me up if any of you were in town. Just the usual, Bob."

            Rouge tapped her glass. "Didn't know you were a lush, Sonic."

            "I'm not. If I drank, people would know, and I don't want some stupid kid getting in trouble 'cause he thought it was alright if I did it. No, the only beer I drink comes from sassafras." 

            The bartender handed the hedgehog a drink. "Root beer float, just like always, Sonic," he said.

            "Thanks, Bob." Sonic took a few slurps and a few big bites of ice cream and set the drink down. "So, whatcha been up to?"

            Rouge sighed hopelessly and began to lift her drink. Sonic gently placed his hand over the top of the drink and pressed it towards the bar.

            "Do you wanna go flying again?" Rouge barked.

            "I think you've had enough, Rouge," Sonic said.

            "Not yet," Rouge said, shaking her head. "I'm still thinking about Knuckles."

            "The two of you were in a nasty fight last time you saw each other," said Sonic thoughtfully. "Three months and he's still on your mind?"

            Rouge shook her head. "I was with him just yesterday."

            Sonic's eyes widened comically. "Wow, you go Rouge!"

            "Shut up! I hate him!" Rouge said, violently shaking her drink. Alcohol spilled along the bar. She hurriedly tried to get the glass to her lips, but it was empty by the time it got there. "Another!" she shouted.

            Bob glanced at Sonic, who shook his head. The bartender went back to cleaning the many glasses Rouge had used.

            "What is your problem?" Rouge bit at Sonic.

            "If you really hated him," Sonic said calmly, "you wouldn't still be thinking about him, and you sure wouldn't be here."

            Before her conscious mind realized it or could do anything to stop it, her face was on the bar, which only partially succeeded in concealing her sobs.

            Sonic's voice was faint compared to her crying, but her bat ears caught the noise just the same. "Tell me however much you want to. I'm here to help."

            She spilled it. All of it. From the moment she'd returned to the island to the moment Sonic had shown up.

            "Whoa! I didn't need to know THAT!" said Sonic, waving his hands. She pushed on regardless.

            When the tale was told, she disconsolately turned to Sonic. "Can I have that drink now?"

            "After that story, I think *I* need a drink!" said Sonic, immediately taking a big swig of root beer.

            "What I can't figure out," she said, "is why the hell I care about him in the first place." She smacked herself. "What did I just say?"

            "You never said it to Knuckles, did you?" Sonic asked.

            "Say what?"

            "That you loved him."

            Rouge slammed her glass on the bar. "Whoever said I loved him?"

            "You mean, apart from you?" Sonic said. Rouge blushed fiercely. "Come on, after hearing that story I could tell."

            "I wouldn't call it love," Rouge said weakly.

            "Call it what you want," Sonic said. "The fact is that you need him and are terrified of him at the same time. You can't handle loving someone, just like he can't handle anyone loving him."

            "How do you know anything about love?" Rouge said, furious. "Have you ever been in love?"

            "No," said Sonic, "but I think that's the only reason I can think about it clearly."

            "You give yourself too much credit," said Rouge. "Your arrogance approaches mine."

            Sonic chuckled. "But you know," Rouge said, "knowing I love him helps, but not too much. It's one thing to know I love him, another thing to make something out of that."

            "Rouge, do you know why you came to this bar? Not any bar, but this one specifically."

            Rouge glanced around. "It's just any old bar, isn't it?"

            Sonic shook his head. "Nope. Thanks to Bob, this is the place where we partied down after the ARK adventure."

            Rouge stiffened. "I… don't remember…"

            "How couldn't you remember?" Sonic said, bewildered. "This is where Knuckles and you had that massive fight."

            Rouge began to shake. Sonic instinctively backed away on his stool.

            A tear slid down Rouge's cheek. "I remember," she whispered. "I'd blocked it out of my memory because it was too painful… but I remember now."

            Sonic suddenly turned towards the door of the bar. Rouge did the same; her ears were picking up the noise of several GUN robots, approaching quickly. "Whaddya suppose they want?" Sonic said rudely.

            "Me," said Rouge. "I was supposed to link up with GUN agents… I guess hours ago. I didn't show, so they're gonna try and arrest me now."

            She rose from her stool, her eyes shining with fury. "If it were any time but now, I might would go with them. But right now, I know what I have to do with my life, and they're in my way!"

            "Rouge," said Sonic, putting a hand on her shoulder, "you're drunk. It's not safe."

            Rouge held out an arm. She held it perfectly steady, neither waving nor shaking. "I'm a spy sometimes. Being able to hold my liquor is important. I'm okay."

            "I'm impressed," Sonic said, "but you're still drunk. It's too dangerous for you to try and fight 'em now. I wouldn't be able to face Knux if I let you get yourself killed."

            "Then what do you propose?" Rouge said.

            "I'll distract the bot-heads. Bob'll show you the back way out of here. Once you're clear, head for the train station. Take a train to the Mystic Ruins. At that stop, there's a workshop. That's Tails' and my place. Just tell him I sent you and he'll take you wherever you need to go."

            Rouge smirked. "You're a good friend to have," she said.

            "I owe Knux a few favors, so don't sweat it. Now move! And if you or Knuckles are ever in Station Square again, be sure to look me up."

            "I'll remember that. Thanks again."

            "Bob? Show her out."

            Rouge followed the bartender. She faintly heard Sonic begin his 'distraction'—sounds of crunching metal and joyous laughter followed her out of the bar.

            Yes, one could have worse friends than Sonic Hedgehog.

            Like, for example, Knuckles Echidna.

            Come on. If he was such a bad friend, why was she so frantic to get back to him?

            Because, good friend or bad, she needed him. The part of her whose existence she'd always denied was finally awake.

            Her entire life seemed so empty now, so pointless. Stealing things, collecting jewels, amassing wealth… what was the point? She'd long since passed the fortune where she could live comfortably and without effort. But she kept going.

            Her life had been devoid of anyone to care for, so she transmuted her desire for companionship into her lust for jewels. All her fervent desire for the company of others was channeled into fetishizing jewelry. The greater the lack of people, the more intense the passion for jewels, which was why that passion had become so irresistible.

            She had glutted herself with jewels to fill the hole within herself, and it had worked for a time. But the more jewels she had, the more it took to bring her any pleasure. She pulled off bigger and bigger heists of more and more precious gemstones, and still the void in her increased.

            She began to rely on the challenge of the job for the purpose of her existence. But that led to her accepting the most dangerous jobs, and even like that she fell prey to diminishing returns.

            That was also why she'd accepted job after job, even overbooking and choosing between jobs. The more time she spent working, the more time she was thinking about her jobs, and the less time she could think dangerous thoughts about herself.

            It seemed so obvious now! Why had she never seen it before?

            Because she needed another person to help her, to destroy the façade she lived in and let her see what was worthwhile. She needed a person who could resist her beauty, match her domineering personality, and withstand her viciousness. She needed a person who could see her various personas for the farces they were, and who actually gave a thought to the person beneath.

            In short, she needed Knuckles.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	16. Chapter Sixteen

            Rouge sat onboard the train as it ran its course towards the Mystic Ruins. There, if Sonic had told her the truth, she would meet Tails.

            She felt some trepidation; her heart began to tremble. It wasn't out of fear of the fox; she couldn't imagine someone who would be afraid of him. Getting him to help her was not an issue.

            No. The issue was her emotions.

            'Turmoil' was quickly becoming her inner name. Even as she needed Knuckles on multiple levels, she feared him as well. She'd accused him of fearing her, and she'd been right; but it worked in reverse as well.

            It was a strange dynamic—she needed him and feared him. And he was in the same fix.

            Rouge shook her head. Somehow, she could see these things so clearly now. It was, ironically, exactly because of their vicious fights. As much damage as they caused, as much as they hurt, all they did was burn away the dross. The fundamental connection between Knuckles and Rouge remained.

            That was why she'd returned to the island in the first place—because, as much as she'd hated Knuckles, he was important to her.

            Even after the bar fight.

            Three months ago they'd been at Bob's bar, celebrating the saving of the world and simultaneously mourning for Shadow. As the party neared its end, each of them stood and said some choice words. The topic was up to them.

            Rouge had drunk too much before she went up there, and had said things she shouldn't have. Mostly, she presumed that Knuckles already loved her, and so described exactly how she would take advantage of that. Knuckles had interjected about how selfish she was and ignorant of other people's wishes. Rouge had fought back, and the argument began.

            That argument ended the party, as the guests had to clear off to avoid the whirlwind of combat, physical and verbal.

            It was painful, very painful, yes—Rouge had blocked it out of her mind. As she relived it she struggled to maintain her composure. But his fists and barbs hadn't hurt the most; his mouth had done far more damage.

            He'd said things like, "You care about jewels more than people," and "You aren't a real person—you're three jobs", and "You're lonely and in denial", and "You can't bring yourself to love". And, as she looked back on it, all of it was true. Painful, but true.

            If only she'd known him better then, had trusted him more. Every word he'd said was true, but it hurt her badly, so she'd suppressed it all. She didn't trust him enough to allow his words to take root and reforge her. Consequently, his accusations had only reinforced her mental blockade against such notions and against any personal investigation or change.

            But the wall had been breached.

            Consciously or not, he began to change her. Someone who could read her soul in a way she refused to do was terrifying but compelling. The void in her cried out for him, because he was unafraid of her.

            For her part, she'd shouted at him that "You're lonely", and "You won't let yourself be loved", and "Your bravado is because of insecurity", and "You hate yourself"—and all of that was true, too. But he'd blocked the memory off because it'd only undermined him more.

            Unlike Rouge, Knuckles lacked confidence. For all his bluster and smack-talk, his innards were rotten with doubt; that smack-talk was as much for his own benefit as for anything else. He spent all of his time exercising and training out of a feeling of perpetual inadequacy. Part of that could be blamed on the Emerald: if it were ever stolen, the consequences would be catastrophic. For that reason, he had to be utterly invincible—yet experience had shown that was far from the case. First Sonic, then Eggman, then Rouge had challenged him and beaten him, and the effect on him was disastrous. It wasn't that he felt weak; he just could never be strong enough to meet his own standards.

            Knuckles was a case-study in responsibility without rewards. He had the enormous burden of being a Guardian coupled with zero recognition. He knew no one, had no one's approval or applause, and was eternally unsatisfied with his own performance. The result was natural: he grew calloused and ceased to expect the attention or affection of others. He gradually determined that he would not deserve any such attention that did come his way. Combined with the suspicion demanded of him by his duty, the more someone seemed to like him, the more dangerous they were.

            This was why their sex had proven so profoundly disturbing. He couldn't understand that anyone could feel that kind of attraction towards him; so, given the opportunity, he assumed the worst. And she couldn't understand the attraction she felt towards him; so, given the opportunity, she'd tried to distance herself from it.

            Knuckles and Rouge wanted, needed each other's companionship desperately. But at the same time the consequences that companionship entailed utterly terrified them.

            She was petrified of loving someone, and Knuckles was horrified of being loved.

            So it was with a good deal of fear that she got off the train at the Mystic Ruins station. There was the workshop, just as Sonic had told her, and the lights were on. She jogged lightly for the workshop, wondering how Tails was planning to transport her.

            Scared or not, she was going.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

            Tails' plane, the Tornado, was ready to go; Sonic had called ahead and told him to get the plane ready. Rouge had Tails transport her back down the continent to her original base, where her helicopter was waiting.

            The noise of the helicopter chopped through the island's normal sounds. Just to be sure Knuckles heard her, Rouge kept the chopper in the air for several minutes before landing.

            She put down in the same place as before. When she got out, she saw that the equipment she'd abandoned in her mad rush away had been neatly piled near her landing spot.

            She sighed. "I didn't come here to get my gear, Knuckles, you can come out now." Seconds passed. "I said, come out!"

            The red echidna hesitantly emerged from his cover. "What do you want?" he said.

            Rouge chuckled. "This is the third time I've done this in a week. Third time's the charm, right?"

            "Rouge… I said, what do you want?" said Knuckles, his voice uncharacteristically weak.

            Guilt washed over Rouge, a most unusual sensation. She knew that the pain and weakness he felt was directly her fault. She couldn't face him; she turned her face away but otherwise didn't move.

            "You're not making this any easier," she said.

            "Sorry," said Knuckles, without sarcasm.

            She steeled herself to say what had to be said. "No… I should be apologizing, not you. I… I'm sorry… I really hurt you. You let me close and I tore you up. Again," she added sheepishly. "But this time, I wasn't trying to hurt you."

            "Which makes it all fine," said Knuckles disconsolately.

            From anyone else, those words would have earned an acerbic comeback from Rouge. But it was Knuckles, and she knew he was right. "I know… I know. You're right. I was terrified of leaving you, so I seduced you in my panic. I was wrong, and I hurt you, and all I can do is beg your forgiveness."

            Knuckles cocked his head, as if unsure he was hearing correctly. "Rouge, you don't panic, and you never beg."

            "I did panic." She dropped to her knees. "And I'm begging now."

            "Get up," said Knuckles, obviously uncomfortable. She did. "You shouldn't be below me. You did mess up, but so did I. I blew a fuse because… well, because I was so scared."

            Rouge blinked several times. "You were… scared?"

            He nodded. "You were right about that. I didn't know how to handle anyone actually… thinking about me like that."

            They stood uncomfortably, their faces pained and avoiding one another's glance. It was as if being so close to one another was unbearable, but something they couldn't help.

            Rouge had to say it—if only she could gather her wits and will. "Knuckles… given how much I've hurt you, I don't…. I don't deserve this, but…"

            "What?"

            She hesitated. "Well, I've got something I want to ask you. A favor, I guess, though it's much bigger than that."

            "Stop dancing and tell me," Knuckles demanded.

            Now that it came to it, Rouge felt her courage melt away. "Will you… well…"

            "What?!"

            Rouge thought deeply to herself as she summoned up her strength.

            'Everything within me that screams for a new beginning… I need you now! It's say it now, or forever be torn asunder.'

            All her concentration had to be siphoned into controlling the exact motions of speaking—but she said it nonetheless. Weakly, pathetically, but the words were out and would never be recalled. She broke through her fear and uncertainty and said it.

            "Knuckles, I beg of you… let me love you."

            He stumbled backwards as if struck.

            "Let you… what?"

            "Let me love you," she said, desperation in her voice. "It's something no one else would understand. Please, Knuckles."

            He blinked and shook his head as if he couldn't possibly be seeing or hearing what was happening. "What… what are you here as this time? Hunter? Spy?"

            His voice sounded harsh, but it was shallow—it was the voice of someone looking for excuses. 'After all that struggle,' thought Rouge, 'I'm not going to stop for excuses!'

            "I'm here as Rouge," she said. "It's a person I don't know very well. I'm hoping you can introduce me to her sometime. The Hunter, the spy, and the thief have retired."

            He had one more card to play. "Promise me something," he said, grabbing her hand and raising it between them.

            "Anything," she said.

            "Stay away from the Emerald."

            "You idiot!" she said, shoving his hand away. "If I love you, I can exorcise my lust for jewels! If I have something to love… I'll… become a better person for it."

            He staggered again, and she nodded. "Knuckles, since I met you, I've changed. It's our contact that's done this. Knowing you makes me want to be a better person."

            Some invisible burden dragged Knuckles to the ground, though his eyes remained on her. Then, slowly but steadily, his fear evaporated. His eyes assumed more normal proportions; the flow of sweat ceased; his trembling steadied.

            He stood before her with a strength she hadn't seen in him since their first meeting. "Then promise me something else," he said.

            "Just say it," Rouge said.

            "Actually love me," Knuckles said. "Genuinely. If you want to love me, actually give a thought to my feelings. Anything else is just going to hurt me—both of us—all over again."

            "Hurting you," Rouge said, "is the one thing I want to avoid." There was an awkward but warm silence. "If I can love you… then, do you think you could find it within yourself to love me?"

            "If I can accept your love," he replied, "then you can accept mine." They both smiled.

            Rouge looked down to Knuckles' hands. It was so odd… even when they'd had sex, he'd kept his gloves on his hands. It was a barrier between them—and should have been notice to Rouge that they weren't really ready for sex at that point. "Knuckles… tell me something… have you ever taken your gloves off before?"

            He shook his head nervously. "Only for a few moments at a time when they need washing."

            Rouge grasped one of his hands and raised it to her face. She picked at the glove with her fingers. She could see that his first reaction was to jerk away, but he steadied himself somehow.

            She got a good hold of his glove and drew it off cleanly.

            There was his hand, exposed.

            Knuckles turned away in shame. "It's ugly, isn't it?" he said.

            The hand was, indeed, ugly. The fur was thin and ragged; rough, thick calluses covered the tops of his fingers. The fingers moved almost as one, and a thick accumulation of fur and dead skin created a sort of membrane between the fingers.

            Then there were the barbs themselves, and they were ugliest of all. Rouge's guess had been correct: they were nothing but bone. Neither fur nor flesh offered any concealment; it was naked bone, dull and dry. The barbs split through the hair and skin of his hands as if impaling it, like the barbs were foreign objects whose existence wounded. Scar tissue, cracked and dead, caked the area around where the barbs emerged, heightening the resemblance to an injury.

            His hand was most certainly ugly. But it was more than simply physically ugly. It was the symbol of Knuckles' Guardianship, and all the costs that the role entailed. It was the exemplar of Knuckles' isolation, his inability and fear of closeness. Knuckles felt unworthy of the cares of others, and his hands were the symbol of that. It was little wonder that Knuckles thought of them as 'tools'.

            For once, though, Rouge's insensitivity paid off.

            She simply didn't care what Knuckles thought about his hands.

            Knuckles kept looking away, shamed that his disgusting hands had to be revealed. But then he felt the oddest feeling on the skin where his barbs penetrated. He managed to look up.

            Rouge was kissing his hand.

            Not just the hand, but the point where the barbs emerged, the most hideous part of his hand.

            He was thunderstruck.

            He stood motionless, eyes wide, as she carefully inspected the hand, liberally applying kisses. Somehow, this was even more intimate than their sex had been. There wasn't now the same passionate immediacy, but he felt still more naked. He was letting her in to the deepest, most private, most shameful parts of him—and she was kissing them.

            She smiled at him—the real smile that made him melt. "Hate yourself all you want, but I won't hate you, or any part of you. If this is the worst thing about you, loving you won't be a problem."

            She pulled the hand up and caressed her cheek with it, affectionately pressing the rough flesh against her soft fur.

            Knuckles was immobilized with the unreality of it all, the feeling of illusion permeating his being. If she could love his hands—his hideousness... Acceptance came at a much slower rate than the events happening around him, but come it did. He regained control of his body and reached a little further up Rouge's face. With his bare fingers he stroked one of her massive ears.

            She froze and shook, then let out a small, "Ooh." She looked at him and smiled again. "There's another thing I'd like to try with you, okay?"

            He nodded, giving her permission. She took the hand on her ear and eased it south until it rested on her side. Then she reached for his other hand and stripped the glove from it in turn. With care, she threaded her fingers between his.

            It stung Knuckles a bit—the nearly-coagulated mass of dead skin and hair between his fingers had almost attached his fingers together. She deliberately swept all that detritus out. There was slight pain as she did. Some of his skin came away with the debris, leaving the sides of his fingers tender and sensitive. His fingers crackled as he wriggled them individually. What freedom of motion! Each finger was light and agile, a feeling that both confused and fascinated him.

            She reached for his hand again and wormed her fingers in between his, filling up the space his refuse had occupied just moments before. The nerves in his fingers, newly awakened, gloried in the novel feeling of her smooth hands. Her fingers pressed his hand to hers, tightly, and he used his fingers to the same effect.

            Rouge reached for his neck with her other hand. She paused for a moment when he eyed her warily. Then she smiled and displayed her fingers before his eyes. She'd removed the claws from her gloves. The tension eased out of him. She extended her arm and worked it beneath his dreadlocks around to the scruff of his neck. She stroked him once or twice with that hand.

            So, his right hand held her left hand; his left was above her hip, and her right was on his neck. "So what now?" he asked.

            She smiled again. "React to me," she said.

            What was that supposed to mean? Without explanation she stepped forward. Knuckles took a step back. She stepped again; Knuckles moved back again. And again, and again, and again. Within moments they were moving together, attuned, anticipating the motions of one another. They gracefully swept and twirled about, focused only on their actions and each other. To Knuckles, it had elements common to a fight—but, whatever this was, it was far more beautiful.

            Beautiful, and thoroughly enjoyable. He sped the tempo up a little, and she matched him step-for-step. They whirled about the area, avoiding objects without conscious thought or attention, as they stared at one another through the narrow space that separated their faces. They fell into each others' eyes.

            "What is this called?" Knuckles asked.

            "It's called 'dancing'," Rouge answered.

            "Hmm…" he half-sighed. "Maybe I can handle being loved, after all."

            "And maybe I can handle loving you," Rouge responded. They smiled, and their faces approached. Some irresistible force drew them closer and closer to each other.

            Karma got to them first. A rock that they'd somehow avoided three times already finally got its due. The back of Knuckles' shoe hit it first; even as he stumbled to balance and regain his footing, Rouge kept moving forward. They collided and fell, tumbling around until they lay side by side.

            They said or did nothing for several seconds. They simply stayed there, staring up at the lovely sky, the feelings of their loved ones by their sides.

            "It's your fault," said Rouge.

            "You know what?" replied Knuckles. "I don't care. This is nice, too."

            They stared up at a pure blue sky, warming themselves as the sun's rays worked into their fur. A soft breeze swept over them, bringing all the fragrances of the island's trees and flowers right to them. The grass was soft beneath their bodies.

            'But more importantly than all of that,' thought Rouge, 'he's here with me.'

            And as she thought that, she tingled—every part of her, from the smallest organelle in each individual cell, all the way up to the entirety of her being.

            Finally she understood. The source of happiness, contentment, couldn't be found by having or attaining. It was found by giving, by loving.

            It wasn't like that romantic trash where "he completes me". It was that knowing him made her want to be complete. She desired to be complete—for him.

            Loving, she realized, was hard work. It was rough. It meant that fights were more brutal, that hurts were deeper, and that risks were greater, because it was all from the depths of heart and soul. And striving to be a better person for his sake would mean a lot of pain and reforging on her part.

            But she would tingle the whole time.

            And that would make it worth it.

            Rouge clasped his hand with hers; their fingers intertwined and their palms pressed together. "I hate to admit it," she said, "but I think you're right. This IS nice."

            "Every once in a while, I get lucky," he said.

            They giggled.

            The island ran its course.

  
  
FIN  



End file.
